


Ignited

by EverlastingProcrastinator



Category: Naruto
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Family, Multi, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Insert, don't know how to use a03 please bear with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverlastingProcrastinator/pseuds/EverlastingProcrastinator
Summary: From the moment Machiko Uchiha is born, people know that there is something different about her. They just don't know how different. A SI/OC Naruto fanfic rewrite told from the perspective of the people around her. Rewrite of the original Fireworks, crossposted from FFN.net
Relationships: Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito
Comments: 17
Kudos: 138
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Not to be misplaced, oc self insertSI





	1. Mikoto Uchiha (Together)

_She is alone, and she is happy that way. She is warm, and everything is soft and safe._

_But then she is not, because there is someone there someone new_

_She is not alone, and she is scared. There is so much black. It sticks to her. It stings._

_And then,_ _**suddenly** _ _, she is here_

_She is her, but she is not her, she is more then her—_

__________

___here__

__where____

____

___

_She wants to cry she wants to scream_ _**who is there** _

_It moves back. It understands her. She wants to cry she wants to scream—_

_And warmth envelops her, and it reaches out, reassuring._

_It's okay, it's okay I'm here,_ _**she** _ _says, and she believes her._

_It feels right now, and she smiles. She is safe._

_____

__

-

_

**_AN: Significantly longer chapters to come lol._ **


	2. Noriko (A Blaze of Glory)

_Noriko Uchiha (A Blaze of Glory)_

The room burns swelteringly hot, and all Noriko can feel is pain. All around her is activity—attendants to the births, moving around her in a wave of white and red hakamas, their dark hair shining in the glow of the blazing flame that rages in the irori, golden flames licking eagerly at the bottom of the teapot, and her leg burns in pain along with it from strain.

Outside, the air is thick with static, the crash of thunder audible as the rain lashes the roof furiously, and once in a while one of the younger attendants will shoot furtive, terrified glances up as the ceiling seems to groan and heave under the weight of the world crashing down on it.

It is not an auspicious day for birth, for either mother or child. Unfortunately, it seems that her child is determined to be born anyway, in this blaze of heat and discomfort. The walls are plastered with talismans to ward away evil spirits lured by the sounds of pain, and one for safe childbirth is looped around Noriko's wrist, thin rope cutting into her flesh.

In comparison, her mother's hand in her own is a cool relief, and Noriko clings to it desperately. Her other hand rests on the small of her back, rubbing small circles.

"Breathe, Noriko." Her mother commands, her voice sure and steady as she pushes away the damp hair that clings to her forehead. Noriko draws in a thin, ragged breath. She could feel the sweat rolling down her back, clinging to her skin, and she cannot help the little grunts of pain that escapes her from combination of contractions and her old wound acting up.

"Hisayo." Her mother says, turning her attention to her attendant crouched by the fire, who is busily pouring boiling water into the little porcelain cup and whisking in a spoonful of miso, the soup splashing over the delicate rim.

"Coming, coming." The woman calls creakily. With a groan, she pulls herself up and deftly totters over to Noriko, placing the tray of just prepared food in front of her.

"Try to eat, give you some energy." The woman says, her gnarled hand going over Noriko's other in comfort, wrinkled thumb rubbing soothing circles over the palm of her hand.

Noriko spares a glance at the food. A small mound of steaming white rice in a lovely patterned blue and white porcelain bowl. A bowl of miso, small chunks of tofu and seaweed bobbling in the warm brown broth. Pickled bamboo and soybean paste on a little plate, accompanied by long slices of glistening roasted fish. All carefully prepared, and if made by Hisayo, likely delicious, but Noriko can barely look at it without her stomach recoiling.

She presses her lips together and shakes her head, gritting her teeth as another wave of pain comes, folding in on herself from the hurt of it.

"Just a bite." Her mother coaxes once the pain recedes. Noriko does not miss the worried look that passes between her mother and her nursemaid, even as Hisayo ducks her head and begins fussing with the little porcelain dishes, likely trying to arrange them in the way she deems most palatable. She knows what neither will say for fear of worrying her—that the baby is nearly a month early.

"Shōri." She grits out, wincing as another wave hits.

"Is he still—outside?"

"Yes, he'll be in the second you're done." Her mother says gently, rubbing her back in soothing circles as she had when Noriko was just a small child.

"G-Good." Noriko says, taking a shallow breath and biting the inside her cheek hard enough to taste the coppery tang of blood in an effort to bite back the scream of pain. Hisayo seems to understand the action.

"You're well within your rights to scream. Kami knows I did when I had mine." Hisayo adds with a wink, patting her hand.

"But try not to be loud. That husband of yours might break down the door if he hears it." Hisayo finishes with a wink, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to where Shōri waited outside, no doubt wearing a notable groove into the floor of the birthing ward.

Noriko could just imagine him frantically accosting every single attendant that slipped in and out for any bit of news they could spare. The laugh she got from the idea of her sweet husband tearing through the screen door if he heard her in too much pain almost managed to distract her from her pain.

Almost.

To please her mother and Hisayo, who was the closest thing to a grandmother she had, she summons the will to pick at the food in front of her. She is barely able to swallow a mouthful of miso broth and a few grains of rice before the contractions seem to intensify, and she buckles over with a groan.

"It's starting. Hisayo, get—" Her mother starts, but the crashing in her ears drowns out the rest of her words. She grinds her teeth against each other. _This_ , she vows, will not get the better of her.

"Push, Noriko!" Her mother's hands press down on her.

Noriko _pushes._ She pushes so hard that she feels needles pricking under her skin. The pain grows and grows, and with a final crash of thunder, Hisayo brings a wailing, red-faced newborn into Noriko's field of vision.

"It's a girl!"

" _Oh_!" Noriko gasps, unable to help herself from falling back against the headboard. Every inch of her trembles from exhaustion, and the thin cotton shift she wears is drenched with sweat from her labor. With the labor pain finally gone, her leg burns more than ever from the strain, but she hardly notices, her gaze fixed on the newborn cradled by her mother.

Noriko is barely able to draw a breath in before the door flings itself open, and Shōri is framed in the glow of the hallway. He had heard the cry, and thought it might not have been proper, Noriko's heart sung to see him.

"Shōri." Noriko croaks out feebly, reaching out her hand and uncaring if she sounded weak, and he is at her side in an instant, hands fluttering desperately around her face.

"Noriko, _Noriko_!" He says her name like a prayer, cradling her head in his hands, his forehead nearly touching hers. His hair slips past his ears and hangs loosely, his dark blue eyes tearful.

She manages to scrape together the strength to entwine her hand with him.

"It's okay. I'—" She manages to get out, before she lets go with a cry of pain as her insides seem to turn to hot lead.

" _Noriko? Noriko!"_ His voice seems to be coming from very far away now, through a ringing in her ears as the pain starts again, searing her skin worse than ever. She cannot help from crying out, the sound tearing at her throat.

" _-ko, can you hear me? Keep pushing—"_

The flames flicker and burn against the smooth stones, and black ink coils and splits on her hands and belly, changing her, _burning_ her.

" _help her! —can I do—"_

They make fantastical shapes, warp and twist in on themselves in blazes, and she has never dreamed anything so beautiful and so terrible as this.

" _We — to—"_

Distantly, faintly, she can hear a woman screaming.

_Is it her?_

_It's not her. It's—_

The pain recedes as quickly as it started, and Noriko jolts her eyes open to a child's scream.

The first thing she sees is her father's face. His two hands are firmly placed on her abdomen, glowing with a green light that seems to illuminate the bones in his hands.

Their eyes meet, and there is _something_ that flickers through his eyes, though Noriko cannot tell what it is. After another moment, he nods, drawing his hands from her stomach.

"You will be alright." He says softly, and it is a promise.

Her husband's face appears over her in the next second, bloodless, still not having relinquished her hand from his viselike grasp.

"Here." Noriko gasps out, every inch of her trembling like a leaf in a cold breeze.

"I'm here."

His face crumples with relief, and with a small sob, he buries his head into her shoulder.

"Noriko." Her father's voice is calm, but there is strange undercurrent to it.

"Look at your mother."

She looks, and her heart stops.

There are not one, but _two_ infants, small and wrinkled, in the arms of her mother and Hisayo respectively, wailing in a discordant harmony.

"W-What?" Noriko gasps out, unable to believe her eyes. Her mother smiles at her from where she tenderly cradles the child. She is more disheveled, and more happy than Noriko had ever seen her, her hair and clothes askew and her eyes alight with a kind of fierce joy.

" _Twins_. You've had twin girls, Noriko." She says, and Noriko lets out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. Already, the pain she had felt mere minutes ago has receded like the sea at low tide in her memory, leaving only a strange knot in her chest.

Shōri raises his head, gaping at the two babies as if he had never seen anything like them. His cheeks are still streaked with tears, but his eyes are full of wonder.

Carefully, moving around the table, her mother and Hisayo inch closer, still holding the babies. Already, she hears the murmurs of the attendants, their smiles and congratulations sounding muted and far away as she finds that she cannot tear her eyes away from their faces.

Her _childrens'_ faces.

"This is the elder." Her mother offers her the baby, swaddled in an Uchiha seal stamped blanket, and Noriko, though her arms are shaking, tenderly takes her into her arm, feeling oddly light and wan. She had never felt like this, she thinks faintly. She could never have imagined _this_.

"And this." Hisayo says, offering a triumphant, teary smile and the other child to Shōri.

"And this _here_ is your little surprise."

Shōri's mouth is open, but he manages to carefully take the child in his arms. The look on his face is indescribable.

"Oh, _Noriko_." He breathes out, gaze tenderly fixed on the crying child he cradles in his arms like she's made of gold and glass.

"It explains them coming early. Twins often do." Hisayo says creakily, patting her knee.

"What good fortune, my darling!" Noriko barely hears her, still looking back and forth between the two crying children. She rather feels like crying herself. From a storm and fire and pain to such light and wonder, she can hardly understand it. Hardly understand how the spirits could feel fit to bless her in such a way.

"Yes." Noriko says, feeling full of love and light.

"Yes it is."

**AN:** _Figured I should post this to a03! Like I mentioned in tags, I wrote a fanfic and it's bugged me for so long that I decided I wanted to rewrite it, so I am. lol Thanks for getting this far if you're reading this, please read and review or kudos if you liked! hope you have a good day :)._


	3. Shōri (A Sunlit Ceremony)

Shōri hums a tuneless song as he grinds ink into a little bowl. The scrape of the black stick against stone is comforting, and he takes a deep breath of the fresh air as he works. The breeze is pleasantly warm, and the birds sing softly in the trees, a far cry from the roiling storm that had accompanied his wife's birthing a mere week ago.

He smiles, murmuring an old poem his father wrote softly as he stares out at the little garden.

_Water trills sweetly over sun warmed stones_

_And makes its winding way to shallow pool_

_With clear voice beckoning forth the summer-time_

Indeed, he thinks happily, summer was arriving in its lazy, winding way. Soon the compound would be bursting with life. The sunflowers and dahlias would fully blossom, and miraculously, this place would be even more beautiful than it normally was.

It had amazed him the first time he had visited, that Noriko's family had their own little estate, secluded to the side of the sprawling Uchiha compound. Set flush against the liveliest part of the compound, it was nevertheless secluded by elegantly crafted wooden fences. Everything was verdant and green—courtesy of Hisayo's husband, their gardener—and the idyllic tranquility of the house where Shōri lived with his wife and in-laws was indescribable.

Well, he corrected himself with a growing smile, where he lived with his wife, in-laws, and two little baby girls. He is unable to stop the giggle at the thought.

 _Two_ daughters! Whenever he thinks about his beautiful little girls, still pink and new, he cannot stop a silly grin from spreading across his face, nor does he care too. He can hardly believe his good fortune, in having such a beautiful family. His amazing, perfect wife unhurt, and two perfect, _wonderful_ little children of his own.

And now, all too soon, their naming ceremony.

Once he has enough ink to satisfy him, he carefully rolls out the heavy, creamy paper, rolling back his sleeves and tying his hair back into a small ponytail.

The two names had been carefully debated by Noriko and Shōri for the last few days. Every character of their names had to be carefully considered, and _finally,_ they had come to a consensus. All was left was to create the name cards to officially announce their choices.

Soon, he found himself lost in his work, the meditative nature of the strokes lulling him into a trance.

Mikoto and Machiko. What beautiful names. Both he and Noriko were quite pleased, and Hisayo had been as well with the choice. In fact, she had even told him several tales regarding twin girls in the Uchiha family that had impressed how good of an omen this was. His favorite had to be the moon and the sun, and already his fingers itched to complete the work.

Well, there is time to do that later, he tells himself as he stands up and rubs out the aches in his legs. _First_ , he wants to see his children again.

Carefully, he slides open the door to the bedroom, casting a watchful eye on the peacefully slumbering children.

Mikoto is dozing lightly, though she no doubt will be woken soon enough. Machiko, on the other hand, is alert. She gazes at Shōri with her liquid black eyes, making no noise or movement as she lies on the floor, nothing but a little round face swaddled with blankets. He smiles at the adorable image. Mikoto is more what he expected of a child—sleepy and prone to tears but generally content— but Machiko has a gravitas to her that is adorably at odds with her little face. A little grandmother already, Hisayo had affectionately termed her, and Shōri could agree, if only for the strange sense of understanding in her eyes. Wisdom child more than suited his beautiful little daughter.

He was often struck with the feeling, looking at his younger daughter, that she could understand every word he said, so he leans forward, pitching his voice low as not to wake Mikoto. She blinks up at him, and he cannot help but grin.

"Hi, _Machan_." He says softly, eyes fixed on her, testing the endearment on his tongue. His voice drops to a low murmur.

"You're the most beautiful thing in the world, you know, you and your sister. And I'm going to make sure that everyone knows it." Lightly, he brushes a kiss against her forehead, smiling when she blinks owlishly at him.

"Until later." He whispers softly, carefully getting to his feet and padding out of the room. When he chances a look back, he sees that Machiko's attention has drifted back out to the window and the blue sky beyond.

With a small smile, he slides the door shut as quietly as he can, returning to the paper in front of him with newfound determination.

After some time a rap on wood draws his attention, and Shōri shakes himself from his contemplation, sitting back and glancing toward the door.

"Come in." He calls, and Noriko slides the door open. She's dressed in a beautiful purple kimono, her dark glossy hair falling freely down her back as she settles next to him.

"Are these for today?"

"They are. What do you think?" He asks her hopefully, taking his own look at the now completed cards. Orchid blossoms twisted their way across Mikoto's paper, reaching up toward the crescent moon that hung at the top. Jasmine flowers blossomed across Machiko's, set with a golden sun whose rays seemed to shine off the page.

She smiles, and the gesture seems to make her eyes shine all the brighter.

"They're _beautiful_ , Shōri." Noriko says admiringly, pressing a kiss to his brow.

"They remind me of the wedding cards you did."

Shōri smiles at that. Hremembered every detail of that day, down to the kimono Noriko had worn. A delicate yellow, with pale pink cherry blossoms curling along her sleeves, pink and yellow flower ornaments elegantly tucked into her black hair. When she moved, the fabric rippled, sending the petals fluttering in an unseen breeze, and her perfume—jasmine, sandalwood and rose—blossoming in her trail.

Quite a striking effect, although by that point he was so head over heels with this beautiful, mysterious woman that he suspected her accompanying him in a stained bag would have still had him weak in the knees. In that moment, when her eyes were shining and her face was filled with light, he would have followed her anywhere.

"I was inspired by that old legend Hisayo told me." Shōri explains, shaking himself from his contemplation and wrapping his arms around hers.

"About the twin handmaidens—and she said your grandmother was a twin?" He questions, and Noriko nods.

"My grandmother—my father's mother—was Aoi. Her twin sister Akari left Konoha, but before that, they were apparently very close."

Shōri perks up at that.

"I didn't know that." He says curiously, and she laughs, shoulder lifting in a half shrug.

"I don't remember them very well." She tells him honestly, eyes fluttering downward as if lost in reminiscence. Her tone turns wistful.

"I remember always getting ink all over me—they were calligraphers, and I wanted to copy them, I suppose. Absolutely wonderful at it, her work was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen."

"I'd love to see some someday." Shōri says sincerely. Her answering smile makes her eyes shine. "I'll find some for you." She promises, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"Right now, though, the ceremony is coming up. I'll get the girls ready, can you greet the guests?"

"Absolutely." He says readily, and she smiles and kisses him once more.

—

Although Noriko had told him apologetically that the clan would expect a large ceremony for her children, meaning there would be strangers, Shōri has no trouble being excited to see his in-laws walking down the winding path toward their house. The first to reach them are Eiichiro and Kotone—no surprise, as they lived not three minutes away from them.

"Welcome, Honored Father and Mother." He says, bowing low at his father and mother in law.

"Thank you for coming."

Eiichiro dips his head, looking rather magnificent in his robes of deep blue, and Kotone kisses his cheek with a smile, his mother-in-law's eyes crinkling in a smile.

"Thank you for having us, Shōri." She says kindly, and together, the two disappear into the compound.

Next comes a rather crotchety pair of elders, who give him nothing but the barest of glances as he welcomes them, and a few people he doesn't recognize but assumes are important Uchiha officials. He's halfway through wondering if the man that just passed him was the chief of _police_ when a familiar laugh catches his attention, and he cranes his neck in excitement.

"Kaa-chan! Sadako! Aiya!" Shōri says in delight, catching a glimpse of his elder sister, her wife by her side, languidly walking up the path. He hurriedly steps down to greet them. His mother smiles at him from her place behind his sister.

"You managed to make it back in time!"

"Of course, of course!" Sadako says with a chuckle. Her blue eyes crinkle in a smile.

"I couldn't miss this ceremony, Aiya wouldn't have allowed it." She adds with a playful wink at her wife, who laughs and steps forward, auburn hair swaying in the breeze.

"Shōri!" She beams at him, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"We are _so_ happy for you." She gushes, taking his hands in her own gentle ones.

"Keep us in mind for babysitting, yes?" Shōri grins at her.

"When you're in the village, count on it. And maybe sometimes when you're not." He tells her playfully, smiling when she giggles. Sadako rolls her eyes good-naturedly, huffing out a laugh.

"We'll charge travel rates." She says, thumping him gently on the back.

"Here from the city isn't exactly an easy walk."

"I'm _so_ excited to meet them." Aiya gushes, hands clasped in front of her, and with another exchange of congratulations, the two disappear into the house as well, and Shōri is left with his mother.

"Kaa-chan." Shōri says affectionately, leaning down so that his mother can kiss both of his cheeks.

"My Shōri." His mother says affectionately, putting a warm hand on his cheek.

"I am _so_ proud of you. You must be so excited."

"I am. _Finally_ , someone I know here." He jokes warmly, grinning at her. She smiles back, though there is something a little sad about the gesture.

"I do wish your father was here." She says, eyes misting slightly, and he softens, enveloping his mother in a hug.

"He's here in our hearts, Kaa-chan." He murmurs, and she says nothing but hugs him tighter.

They stay like that for a brief second, before his mother slowly moves away, wiping away a few tears. She smiles, and while it's shaky, it's warm and reaches her eyes.

"Shall we go in?"

"Yes, let's." He says, taking her arm in his own and leading her into the house.

—

When they got to the room, everyone is chatting amongst themselves—mostly the elders with the elders, and the others within themselves. The Uchiha symbol is well represented—emblazoned on black wall hangings scattered throughout the room, it is also seen on the backs of the people around him. The elite of his wife's family, he muses, certainly enjoyed wearing those. He could never remember a time where his mother did the same.

His signs are carefully positioned right behind them, flanked by two more hangings. His two daughters are dressed resplendently in a white so spotless it seems luminous in the glow of the lanterns around him. Mikoto is dozing gently, while Machiko's eyes flutter sleepily as she seems to blearily attempt to take in the world around her. Shōri smiles minutely.

There's a long line of people in front of the table, who bow and offer them envelopes, and step aside to talk to Noriko, who fends them off with grace. She catches sight of him, and excusing herself, slowly walks over to him. Shōri catches the outraged look on his face, and stifles a sigh. Everyone wished to monopolize her time, but not _today_ he decides, instead electing to smile at her and kiss her forehead in greeting.

"I'll give a quick speech, and after is the dinner." She whispers in a low undertone.

"You'll do great." He assures her, and she smiles briefly at him, before she takes a few steps forward to the center of the room. She does not speak, but the way her spine straightens commands attention, and soon the room falls silent, watching her.

"Thank you all for coming. I am deeply honored by your presence here at such a joyous event." She speaks calmly, her voice rolling over the people. Shōri sees the two elders exchange more mollified looks, and suppresses a smile at how effortlessly she has charmed them. She gestures toward the girls elegantly.

"I would like to present to you Uchiha Mikoto and Uchiha Machiko, my daughters."

A polite round of applause passes through the room, and with a dip of her head, she takes her place beside Shōri, each of them taking a child in their arms. The group splinters, settling into long tables set with sea bream, red rice and other assorted foods, a tantalizing smell rising from them.

"You've really outdone yourself, Hisayo." He says admiringly to the woman beside him, who smiles toothily at him, busily ladling herself a bowl full of red rice.

"Nothing but the best for you, my dear." She says with a wink.

Most of the Uchiha seem to want to discuss clan matters with Noriko and Eiichiro—he thinks he even catches a few dirty looks when he briefly diverts her attention. Instead, he spends most of the evening conversing with the people he _does_ know—his sister and sister-in-law, who cheerily rocks Machiko as if she was born to do it, his mother and Hisayo. They're discussing a humorous attempt of some elderly fan to get his mother's autograph in the grocery store as the evening runs down, Mikoto and Machiko falling into slumber.

They break off first in pairs, then groups, as the people disperse for the evening, most bowing low at Noriko and offering their congratulations before stepping into the warm summer night, moonlight casting golden light on the flowers and gravel that decorated their path.

Shōri and Noriko watch them go, Machiko in his arms and Mikoto in hers. She leans her head against his shoulder idly, and he instinctively does the same—the lingering scent of jasmine, sandalwood and rose prevalent.

"Did you enjoy it?" His wife asks, with a barely stifled yawn. He looks down at his daughter, who stirs in her sleep, and with a smile he kisses her forehead gently.

"Yes, I did."

**AN: I'm just posting all the chapters I have to get it up to speed with the other one! Hope you enjoyed this.**


	4. Kotone (A Summer Dream)

The sound of the koto sibilates through the air as Kotone deftly pulls her hands across the strings, coaxing out a delicate melody. The rich notes echo through the warm haze that the entire compound seems to be basking in as the summer heat enroches upon the compound.

Noriko sits beside her, having stripped down to no more than her kosode as she fusses with the wiggling child in her arms, gummy face stretched in a smile. Her other daughter is close at hand beside her, looking to be sound asleep but for the occasional flutter of her lashes and wrinkle of her nose. Kotone catches Noriko casting worried glances at her every so often, obviously weighing the risks of disturbing her versus making sure she's not running a fever.

It is the fate of a parent, she thinks with a sigh, to worry as one did. A child was a piece of your heart offered to the world and all its trials. And though she wanted to placate her daughter, she herself could not suppress the flicker of worry when she saw her granddaughter so still and small, a far cry from her more boisterous sister.

Machiko is…quiet. Quieter then her sister, surely, and quieter then Noriko, herself a rather unfussy baby, had been. Even her cries, when they were rarely given, seemed muted, hesitant, and she seemed content for the most part to spend most of her time staring blindly out into the distance. She knew that Noriko and Shōri had taken Machiko to the doctor out of an abundance of caution, but it seemed to be nothing more than Machiko's temperament manifesting itself early, and there was nothing to be done but to attend to her when she _did_ deign to cry. It, however, did not lead to any less anxiety from the new parents, and over the past three months since their birth, Kotone knew that Noriko and Shōri had roused themselves from sleep for lack of a cry as often as they did for one.

She sighs, and sets the koto aside at the thought of her son in law, gentle but unbearably naïve. He would learn, she was sure, but it would be some time before that, and she wished to give him all the peace that she could.

Shōri was a sweetheart, and she was glad that Noriko had found a man who so obviously adored her as she adored him. But they had grown up in two different worlds. Shōri's mother was an Uchiha, but the expectations placed on Noriko could not be overstated, and had no equal in the clan. He could not truly understand how her mind worked, just as Kotone could not truly understand what was expected of Eiichiro, what burdened him so.

No, it was not easy to share blood with Madara Uchiha, she knew that much. She had spent enough of her life at her husband's side to know that. A fall from grace for the family she had married into before Noriko was even a thought, before her husband was old enough to truly understand that when his uncle had abandoned the village, he had abandoned the Uchiha as well, and that they would not forgive such a thing.

At the time, she was told, it had seemed clear that the path of leadership was clear. Madara had absconded, leaving no heirs behind. The future path of the Uchiha lay in the hands of his younger sisters—Aoi and Akari, and through Aoi her son Eiichiro. But the relationship between the rest of the village and Uchiha was still tenuous. Those ready to please were eager to distance themselves from the actions of their now disgraced leader, and so leadership of the clan had fallen to a distant cousin rather than Eiichiro himself. Eiichirod was too young to pursue it, and Aoi and Akari had no political recourse to fight it. They were still supported—as the first line, they would always be afforded respect, but their political powers had been stripped from them.

Kotone had married into that, her eyes open to what would come. She had loved Eiichiro, and she had wanted to start a family with him. Their daughter, Noriko, was generally assumed to be preparing herself with a betrothal of that man's son, but she had, in possibly her most defiant act against the elders ever, instead forever tied herself to the blissfully kind half-Uchiha artist with ink stained fingers. He was a sweet boy, with no sense of what the family has lost—his mother Nanae had never seemed fully comfortable with the Uchiha and did not seem to have taught him of her mother clan overmuch, not that Kotone could blame her. Being an Uchiha had its benefits, but it could be rigid and inflexible, obsessed with status and legend.

And now, the twins. A wrench in the uneasy peace that had settled ever since Eiichiro was old enough to make it clear he held no grudge and no desire to upset what was now the natural order. They might have continued in this, were in not for the girls.

Kotone sighs, resisting the urge to rub at her forehead. This symbol of change had made the elders uneasy, and as many of them that stubbornly clung to their decision to pass over Eiichiro now seemed to think twice about their decision. Soon, something would break. But at the very least, their birth had quelled many of the louder complaints from the more obnoxious of the elders—the omen of great fortune in store too powerful for them to gripe about Noriko not marrying Fukashi as they had all expected—but it would only last so long.

But for now at least there is peace, she thinks as Noriko carefully lays Mikoto beside Machiko, slowly struggling to her feet as Kotone watches.

The limp is apparent as she moves across the room, and although she tries not to show it, she winces, unwillingly recalling the terrible day where it happened, how her heart had seized in her chest and threatened to burst. Every time she sees it, she is reminded of how close her daughter was to death, mixed with a painful sense of relief that her career as a kunoichi had ended before she had gotten hurt more. She could never have wished any injury upon her child, not in a thousand years, but she thanked the spirits everyday that Noriko was no longer an active combatant, and that Kotone didn't spend nights sleepless while Noriko was on mission, pacing the floor and wondering if her daughter would return.

With another sigh, she lies herself next to her grandchildren, with half lidded eyes watching them until they slip shut of their own accord and Kotone is lost to a dream.

—

—-

_Her hands ache, and she sighs. She really ought to do those finger stretches her sister sent her, she thinks idly. She catches a fleeting glance of herself in the mirror, and idly brushes a hand down her brown curls, stifling a yawn. It's warm, right now. She's tired._

_**So tired, she just wants to sleep** _

_The phone rings. She glances down, seeing the name emblazoned across the top._

_It's her sister. She should pick up._

_Her eyelids are heavy._

_Pick up._

_She thinks she might be coming down with something_

_Pick up._

_The light is blinding. It hurts her eyes._

_Her vision mists. She misses her sister. She misses her so,_ _**so much.** _

—-

—

When she opens her eyes, her vision shifts and blurs and stings, and it takes her a second to realize that her eyes are full of tears.

It takes another second to realize there's a woman crying.

"What—" She gasps, jolting upward, but it is _Machiko_ that is screaming. Mikoto has awoken as well, and terrified, has joined in on the cries. She scrambles to her feet, but between one heartbeat at the next, Noriko is there, Machiko in her arms and a wild look in her eyes.

"Get a doctor!" She shouts as she turns, and Kotone's heart seems to stop in her throat as she catches a glimpse of Machiko's eyes, red as blood.

The hospital is as cool as the house had been warm, all sterile white corridors and dimly fluorescent lights casting a neon blue glow on the long rows of benches.

Eiichiro's expression and bearing are perfectly serene, but for his knuckles are white. She puts a hand over his, and he takes it like a lifeline.

Shōri holds Noriko tightly in his arms, murmuring calming words under his breath, but the paleness of his face and the redness of his eyes makes it unclear who the soothing is intended for. Noriko, on the other hand, sits like her spine is of iron, seemingly not even hearing her husbands words, gaze firmly ahead.

Kotone knows the look in her daughter's eyes—the cold, clear look Kotone had seen often during Noriko's time as a shinobi. She sits perfectly still, but radiates a kind of energy that has passing nurses do a double take and hurry their steps to flee from this atmosphere.

Korone stares hard at the handful of her hair that she works between her fingers, wondering if it will shift to the bouncing, cinnamon brown curls she had dreamed so vividly of, but it stays resolutely dark and glossy. She shakes her head immediately, annoyed with herself for this odd indulgence.

 _Of_ _ **course**_ _it does,_ she chides herself sharply.

_You were dreaming. You never had a sister._

She knows that she has nothing to mourn, but her heart burns with a horrible, nameless loss all the same, and quickly, she pats her cheeks dry before anyone can see. It had felt so _real._

The click of the door sends everyones' heads up, and as the doctor quietly slips between the crack, Noriko and Shōri seem to stand as one.

"Is she alright?" Shōri demands of the doctor, who nods quickly, placatingly.

"She's sleeping now. If you could come in…" He starts, but Noriko is already moving past him, Shōri not far behind, disappearing behind the door.

"You two as well, Eiichiro-sama, Kotone-sama." The doctor says with a bow.

Kotone casts an uncomfortable look at Eiichiro, who meets it with equal hesitation before he breathes out and nods toward the room.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Kotone follows the man, Eiichiro a comforting presence behind her.

The room is the same as the hallway it branches off from, just as white and sterile. The only difference is that cradled in between Noriko and Shōri is Machiko, who appears to be fast asleep and thankfully, in no pain.

Kotone surpasses a shiver at the flash of memory of blood streaking down her white cheeks, and hastily steps to the side as the doctor turns toward them all, clasping his hands gently in front of him as he does so.

"We've decided, based on the two of your testimonies, that what affected you was a genjutsu"

"I could sense no outsiders in the compound." Noriko says immediately, because of _course_ she had been on guard of such a thing. The doctor shakes his head gently.

"It was not an outsider. It was your daughter." He says softly, measuredly.

The silence reigns supreme for a long, heavy second, before her husband speaks up.

"Machiko is barely four months old." Eiichiro says.

"I have never heard of—how could one so young do this?'

The doctor nods in understanding, gesturing toward the sleeping child.

"Our best guess is that it was a kind of emotional genjutsu. Machiko herself was deeply upset, which managed to radiate outward. You were made to feel the same as Machiko was feeling, and your brain created a situation in which you would be upset to explain it."

Kotone thinks of that painful, shadowy loss she had felt aching behind her eyes, and suppresses a shiver despite herself. The doctor continues.

"Machiko clearly has quite a lot of power. We will need more tests to see, but her chakra levels are—unusual for her age. Her Yin chakra, especially, is—" The doctor shakes his head in apparent disbelief, unable to find words.

"Well, it's remarkable, really."

"But she was in pain." Noriko speaks up sharply, clutching Machiko a little tighter to herself.

"Why would the Sharingan hurt her?"

"It is possible that it has something to do with activating the Sharingan at such a young age. It—well, we don't think that it's ever been done before. Or it's possible that her body was unable to handle the strain of such an output when she's so untrained. Either way, we'd like to run more tests on her in the future."

"Do what you must." She says without hesitation, Shōri nods firmly beside her. Kotone wraps her arms around herself, and not even her husband holding in her in his arms can suppress the shiver that goes up her spine.

"You're still awake." The words of her husband jolt her from the daze she's in, curled up on her side of the bed, as awake as she was five hours ago when she bid him good night. She sighs softly. It was useless to feign, he could always tell when she couldn't sleep.

"I am." She whispers back.

She feels the mattress dip as Eiichiro shifts toward her, only his eyes silhouetted in the pale rays of moonlight that slowly move across the room.

"Are you alright?" He whispers softly, his hands coming up to find her own. She holds onto them tightly, fingers curling into his broad warm ones.

"No." She confesses.

"I'm worried I'll dream of—" She falters, unable to articulate that eerie, hyper-real sensation of being in another's body, of feeling how they felt, so lost and alone. But it wasn't even a true body, was it? It couldn't have been, if it was Machiko. But Eiichiro seems able to understand, his expression softening further.

"I know, I know." He says lowly, gently. He brushes a long strand of hair out of her face, cupping her cheek with her hand as he moves to press his forehead with hers.

"Machiko is alright, Kotone. And you are too."

Kotone nods minutely, feeling slightly reassured, and his breath is warm as he sighs.

"Goodnight, my love. Wake me if you need me." He murmurs, and she lets her eyes slip closed.

"Goodnight." She sighs back, and surrenders herself to sleep.

**AN: Alright, that's fun! As always, I hope you enjoyed, and please read and review!**


	5. Sadako (A Sunny Spring Day)

Sadako could say with the greatest confidence that she was very content with her life. She enjoyed her work—she was a potter by trade, selling high end tea and dinner sets to the well off merchants and city officials that made up the majority of her clientele. She had a beautiful wife who she loved dearly, a warm, sun-filled apartment in the heart of the capital city, and the freedom to push herself in her art while maintaining a comfortable living.

Indeed, she found herself very pleased with what she had accomplished. Surely she was lucky—she had the advantage of a loving and supportive home that encouraged her artistic sensibilities. All of her family had gone into the arts in some way—her father had been a librarian and poet. Her mother had been a successful actress, before she had peacefully stepped away from the spotlight to raise the two of them. And Shōri, before he had married Noriko, had begun to make a name for himself as a painter of screens.

Yes, she had been shaped and changed by everything that had ever happened to her. Everything she had done had molded her into something new, something that moved closer and closer to the true version of herself, the person she was meant to be in the end.

Children, she figured, were quite like clay when they had just begun in the world. Unformed, soft and untested. But a steady, gentle hand could shape them, guide them, to who they wanted to be, help them become the best version of themselves. But it required not just one hand, but many—all the people who cared for them taking an active role.

Which was why she was currently here with her wife, having taken the long trip from the capital to Konoha to celebrate—

"Girl's day! Look, Sadako, look!" Aiya laughs, her musical voice bright with excitement, drawing Sadako from her reverie, and she looks at the display of dolls her wife is pointing to with barely hidden excitement.

"They're very nice, aren't they?" Shōri says, puffing up slightly with pride. Sadako takes her own look, smiling a little bit at her brother's enthusiasm.

The lowest level, resplendent on the scarlet cloth, had two little dolls that obviously represented Mikoto and Machiko, if the navy blue dresses and white and red cords tied around their waists were any indication of it, or their names written in little neat characters. Multicolored little paper lanterns were strung up around them, and sakura petals were scattered on the velvety fabric in front of them. She smiles, and lifts her gaze upward.

The emperor and the empress were at the very top of the display, dressed in cloth that shimmered and winked golden on the rich red fabric. Sadako smiles faintly at it. There hadn't been an emperor for a thousand years, and yet still, the tradition had endured. The empress' hair was moon white thread, tied up into an elaborate updo that in Sadako's mind resembled a rabbit with its two large loops. She was, as traditionally, flanked by two identical little dolls in white, with scrolls laid out before them—her ubiquitous nameless handmaidens. The emperor is surrounded by musicians, advisors, and his singular Sealmaster—a little doll with red thread as hair, spilling down and seeming to mingle with the crimson cloth below her.

It was all in all, a charmingly idyllic little scene, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Aiya melt at the display.

"How _adorable_." She cooes, crouching down and admiring the little dolls with glee.

"You know, the magazine has a yearly Girl's Day Edition. I should see if they'd put this in the spread next year, it's so unique."

"It is." Sadako agrees, slinging her arm around her wife's waist good-naturedly. Aiya hums thoughtfully, eyes alight with possible spreads for next year as she leans into her touch.

"It's a modified version." Shōri says, his eyes lighting up at Aiya's clear interest. He points at the rows of dolls proudly.

"They're all—except the emperor's level of course—Uchihas. The dolls are hand-crafted, and passed down in their family—they're the ones who have the biggest display, which is why there's more then just us here."

"O! I see, then. Does that one have a little fan?" Aiya asks, pointing at the one on the left.

"Huh, she does." Sadako says, peering at the little red-white uchiwa amid the folds of the dress curiously. Shōri immediately brightens at that.

"That's Uchiha Hitomi." He says proudly.

"She's the first matriarch of the Uchiha clan, and in legend, her son took the symbol and name from the fan she carried. The doll next to her was her twin sister Hihana." He gestures at the one dressed in the robes of a miko, hair bound with a thin scarlet ribbon.

"Oh." Sadako says, interested, looking closely. She had never known very much about her mother's clan, except what every child in Konoha learned. It was interesting to relearn it, but in context of the heritage of her nieces, rather then tests in schoo.

"So twins as well?"

"Oh, yes!" He beams widely at them and chatters on.

"There are such fascinating legends about twin Uchiha girls, and Hisayo has been telling me so many, look." He points proudly at the long row of dolls, which, Sadako just now notices, have two identical ones on each level of the display.

"Because Mikoto and Machiko are twins, this represents their foremother, Hitomi, and Hihana. Then there's Chiharu and Chihiro, and Kōrimi and Kaenmi, and on and on. And then there's their great-grandmother, Aoi, and her sister Akari. They're omens—representing change for the clan." He points at them, and Sadako leans down, peering at them closely. The two dolls on the next level, with ink black hair falling down their backs are also dressed identically but for the color—the left in a deep blue, the right in a red so rich it seems to glow. Little scrolls are spread out in front of them as well.

"They're lovely, Shōri." Sadako says, slinging her arm around her shoulder and ruffling his hair affectionately. He beams at her, taking her hand, and gently but pointedly begins to drag her.

"Come out into the courtyard!" He invites them cheerfully.

Sadako laughs gently, and allows Shōri to lead her toward the bright, sunny courtyard, Aiya at her side.

The warm sunlight filters through the slats of dark brown wood as they walk. The entire compound was a masterful piece of workmanship. Although Sadako wasn't any kind of expert in woodwork, she could see no flaw in the elegant columns, or the places where the slats of wood joined together seamlessly. It was as if it had grown like this, rather then being built.

On the side of the walls hang large pieces of calligraphy and art, made with ink and watercolor. They're made on very fine paper, thick and handmade, and every stroke of the brush screams precision and skill. She's in the middle of admiring a lovely one with grey-gradiant clouds when one catches her eye.

It's large—possibly is the largest of the pieces, at least of the ones she can see, and the length of the dresser it hangs over. All of the pieces are fine, but this one is made of especially good quality, lined with a red and gold brocade on its edges. It's got no color to its work, only black ink in swirls and slashes. It's harsher then the surrounding hangings, with intricate and sometimes overlapping pieces, forming a nearly geometric sequence. Shōri brightens when he catches her looking at it.

"Oh, I just put that up today. Found it in storage. I think the Lady Aoi—that is, Noriko's grandmother, Eiichiro-sama's father—must have made it, it was so carefully put away. And Noriko says her grandmother was supposed to be a real master, so..." He trails off, then winks at them.

"I hope I don't get in trouble for it. I couldn't find Hisayo to ask her about it, and with all the things going on I don't think Noriko or her parents have seen it either. It's very interesting, isn't it? I figured we could put it up. "

"I've never seen calligraphy like this." Aiya says curiously, her eyes tracking the swirls of the ink in interest.

"It's very avant-garde, isn't it?" Sadako remarks, not uncomplimentary. It's not what she would call beautiful—delicacy and grace have been put aside, with instead various circles and arrows, with strange squiggles—she would have thought them characters, but they're indecipherable to her, and she has no thought as to what it might be. He nods energetically in agreement.

"It is. It was so interesting, I thought it'd be such a shame to leave it in storage."

Aiya hums in agreement, and after a second, the moment passes, and Shōri leads them out into the courtyard. There's already a throng of people, all dressed in flower-patterns and light colors—Sadako sees Hisayo in the midst with a man Sadako assumes is her husband. She sees a flash of raven dark hair, and she barely has to turn to see her sister in law walking toward them, Shōri immedietly lighting up.

"Sadako, Aiya! It's so good to see you two. I've been outside all day, I'm sorry, I didn't see you come in." Noriko says as she walks up to them with a little laugh, bouncing the twins, dressed identically in a delicate pink. Shōri immediately beams, whatever he was saying forgotten, taking Machiko when Noriko offers her to him. Both girls, in addition to their outfits, gnaw on sweet pink mochi—Mikoto more enthusiastically, if more messily, then Machiko does.

"No problem. You're busy, being hostess and all." Aiya dismisses with a wide smile, pressing a greeting kiss to Noriko's cheek and two quick ones to the twin girls. Mikoto giggles and kicks her little feet in glee, whereas Machiko leans into her wife's touch.

Sadako smiles gently, brushing a hand over Mikoto's forehead, who smiles and babbles nonsense in Noriko's steady arms. Looking between them, she could see that physical features were beginning to distinguish themselves. Mikoto was more fair skinned than her sister, and her fine black hair clung to her head like silk. Machiko, on the other hand, had a more golden cast to her skin, and what little hair she had was thicker and more wild. It was clear that much of her coloring came from her father, who was now tenderly cradling her in his arms and beaming at her with wordless pride.

"Adorable." Aiya sighs, slightly sends a not-subtle glance out at the mingling people, among them several adorable looking children, and Sadako cannot suppress her smile at how poorly her wife is hiding her desire to go coo over them.

"Go, go. I'm just going to watch for now." Sadako says with a laugh, shooing them away. Neither needed any more cajoling—Aiya kissing her cheek and entering the throng of people, while Shōri and Noriko waves cheerily and wander over to a kindly looking couple who exclaims merrily over the bundles in their arms. Among the throng of people, she sees Eiichiro and Kotone mingling. Hisayo is still chatting with her husband, seemingly her age with a shock of hair almost a violent shade of chestnut red, and a woman with dark brown hair she assumes is their daughter. That accounts for all the Uchiha family, she thinks, unless another one will pop out of the woodwork.

Sadako settles herself on the wooden floor, tilting her head up to the warm breeze, her mind turning reminiscent.

Really, she wondered, where had all of these months gone? It had seemed just yesterday that she had met them for the first time. Noriko had recovered from the unexpectedness of twins and possible complications quickly, and she remembered how small and wrinkly they were, red faced and squalling. And now it seemed they were growing by the day. In just a few short months, it would be their first birthday, and the erabitori. And after that...she falters.

After that, then, the similarities between how her and her brother and the twins were raised would end.

Seeing her nieces, surrounded by people who were celebrating them, reminded her of the expectations they had already on them. There was already talk between their parents to send them to school before the Academy—though it was unbelievably strange to Sadako that they would talk of ninja-training before they were old enough to walk, but it was a given to the clan that they would. You did not simply waste the talents of the children of such a powerful family.

Mikoto and Machiko…she wonders what would come of them. Shōri's father-in-law was a ninja, though as far as she knew he had done little in the way of active duty, instead taking on his responsibilities as head of his family young, and retiring early—a grace few ninja shared. And Noriko had been an active shinobi, even after her and Shōri were married, and it was only a leg injury—Sadako was hazy on the specifics, except that it was bad and it meant the end of her career—that had put a stop to it. Clearly, it ran in the family.

The only question left for the two was if they would become active shinobi, or do what their grandfather had done and immediately move to administrative work. She couldn't imagine them as ninja, but then again, she didn't know a lot of them except her in-laws.

"Thinking, Sadako?" Her mother's voice pulls her out of her reverie, as Nanae Uchiha Sekiguichi settles into place besides her. Her mother had always radiated an elegant kind of grace, and it was easy to call to mind images of her youth—smoky eyed and glossy-haired. The spirits knew, she had seen enough of her mother's old movies to remember, but that elegant brow was creased in concern as she peered at her closely, seeming to search for whatever was troubling her. Behind her, arm in arm, are Kotone and Eiichiro, the sheen of their dark hair identical.

"Not about much. Good morning, Kotone-sama, Eiichiro-sama." Sadako banishes her concerns with a brisk shake of her head. There's no need to worry her mother or in-laws, not when their future is so far away and her own worries so incoherent. There was no way for them to know what was to come, and so there was no use in worrying about it unnecessarily, especially when it might worry her mother.

Her brother's parents-in-law smile at her, giving soft greetings as they climb the steps. Kotone delicately arranging the folds of her kimono around her. as she sits Eiichiro inclines his head and says something about going in to get some shade, disappearing into the wide door as the three women fall into conversation.

"How are things going with the agency?" Her mother asks lightly, and Sadako smiles at the reminder.

"Paperwork's all in, we're just playing the waiting game now." She answers, scratching her cheek idly as she watches Aiya. She's dressed in cherry blossom pink lined with a deeper, richer plum-pink, striking against her honey brown skin. Her long deep chestnut hair sways lightly as she moves, and she smiles at Sadako—a gleam of white teeth, before she returns her attentions to assisting the little girl in tucking flowers into her pigtails.

"You will be excellent parents." Kotone says with a smile, and Sadako cracks a wry grin.

"Sure hope so. Shōri's taken to it well, not a word of complaint."

"Indeed." Her own mother says, her smile dimming somewhat.

"Especially with...well." She coughs uncomfortably, casting a worried look at Kotone, and Sadako nods, knowing what her mother was speaking of.

In the tense few months after Machiko had managed to activate her Sharingan, there had been a flurry of doctor visits and testing out medications and all sorts of invasive questions from people who Sadako was certain had absolutely nothing to do with it. The general consensus once the dust had settled is that like most Uchiha, extreme emotion had caused the nature of the incident in question, and that Machiko was either blessed or cursed with an overwhelming surplus of Yin chakra. The Sharingan of course, channeled Yin chakra to the eyes, but Machiko, being so young, was probably unable to control the amount channeled, thus severely straining her eyes and causing the pain. Her natural Sharingan was thus assumed to be more powerful—and more volatile—then the average Uchiha, and everyone who loved her was engaged in a tense waiting game to see what this would mean for the girl. Mikoto, on the other hand, though she had higher than normal Yin and Yang chakra, had shown no sign of the same imbalance as her sister, which was a relief as well as a curiosity. Countless doctors had tried and failed to explain how Machiko's massive overload of Yin had come to pass, but Sadako was content in knowing her niece was in no immediate danger. She couldn't care less how it happened, only that she was growing up as happy and healthy as her sister.

It certainly hadn't done anything for Shōri's nerves, however, and though she was not as close to her sister-in-law, she did not envy their position. They loved their daughters dearly, and the scared had clearly taken its toll on them—although it had lessened as Machiko, closely monitored, had shown no relapse. She was as strong and healthy as Mikoto, if quieter and more prone to care rather than the wild actions of a child.

"She seems alright." Sadako assures her.

"There hasn't been another incident since the first one, and Shōri tells me the doctor is optimistic that it can be managed."

"She's a very disciplined child." Her mother sighs, half wistfully, linking her hands together and looking out onto the crowd. Kotone nods in agreement, playing idly with a strand of her black hair, which she lets fall through her white hands with a pensive expression. She adds, casually.

"They're thinking of enrolling them into a finishing school, you know."

"It's younger than I would have thought." Sadako says slightly surprised, and her mother nods, casting a curious look out at Noriko and Shōri.

"They'll be a little young, I suppose, but it's not for some time, and they'll have each other." Kotone points out, brushing a hand over her dark hair. The two nod in agreement—it's a reasonable point, and Sadako is inclined to think that Kotone is more aware of the requirements of a finishing school then Sadako herself was.

"Makes sense. Any idea what school?

"I think they were looking at Niwaki Academy, the one in the Hinoki district. I went there myself, actually, it offers a solid foundation."

Sadako whistles lowly, suitably impressed. She had never attended it herself—she lived in a different district, and besides that the school system was decent enough that it seemed silly to spend money on private, but she had heard of Niwaki. It taught things like calligraphy, ikebana and music alongside history and math, although Sadako had heard it also offered things like kendo and fan-dancing.

In short, it was an elite school for the elite children of Konoha—the children who needed a thorough education in the "traditional" arts that the Land of Fire had to offer. The parents of the children were the high-up clan members or the wealthiest merchants of Konoha, or the administrators placed in the village by the daiymō himself. And apparently, Noriko and Shōri Uchiha were eventually going to be added to the list. It'd suit her brother well—he was clearly born to be a well-meaning if overly involved parent, and Noriko seemed the type to know things like fan-dancing and calligraphy—there was enough of it hung up around the house to tell Sadako that.

She thinks again of the odd wall-hanging, so unlike the other ones. Her mother and Kotone begin talking about the finishing schools of Konoha, debating the merits of various ones, and sweat begins to trickle down her back. She politely excuses herself to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

She stands up, brushing dust off of her trousers as she slips back into the quiet house, so different from the bright gaity of the courtyard, and—

There's someone there, a shadowed figure in the dark corridor. She immediately stiffens, though she knows it's more likely then not just a festival goer seeking a moment of shade like her, it's still a bit of a shock to her system.

It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the light, but when she does, the figure turns their head somewhat, and—

"Eiichiro-sama?" Sadako says, hovering at the edge of the door. The man jolts, spinning to meet her gaze. The tension in his brow eases somewhat, as he sees her standing there.

"Oh—Sadako-san." He straightens his spine, looking completely serene.

"Are you and your wife enjoying the festivities?"

"Uh, yes, very much so. Thank you." Sadako says, a little thrown by the conversation and how casually he stood. He nods briskly at her. It's only then she notices the wall hanging, folded in his hands. He follows her confused gaze, and the tension returns to him. The sound of festivity comes dull and distant from the courtyard behind.

"I came in and saw it." He said by way of explanation. It's not much of one, and, well, Sadako's curious now. Somehow, she doubts he simply disliked a wall hanging so much that he took it off the wall in another's house—even if the home had originally been his, as Shōri had mentioned offhandedly.

"Shōri put it up. He, uh, he thought it might have been your mothers?" Sadako ventures., wondering if that would clear anything up. Every line of his body goes rigid. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say.

A long, tense silence passes, and Sadako is wondering if she should apologize for insulting him— _why_ this insulted him, she had no clue, but he was not an overly proud man, so it was more than likely a sore spot if he was this tense—before he spoke again.

"Yes, you are correct Sadako-san." He says, the politeness sounding less forced and more like a mask of his true feelings.

"This was my mother's. Forgive me, I was...surprised to see it out."

Surprised enough to take it down immediately, she thinks, but doesn't say.

"I see." She says instead. The man seems to note her confusion, and adds.

"Her work is very delicate—some of it predates Konoha. We try to keep it out of the sun."

"Oh. Oh, of course. I'm sure Shōri didn't—" Sadako begins immediately, understanding instantly his worry, and for the first time he smiles, the tension in his brow easing somewhat.

"Do not worry, Sadako-san, I know my son in law has nothing but the best of intentions. The fault lies with me—I was so careless as to leave it here, and offer no kind of warning. I will put it away—" He slightly chuckles.

"And have a reasonable label on it."

"Good." Sadako said, relieved on her brother's behalf. There was a reasonable explanation after all. He was worried about his mother's work, and understood the mistake Shōri made to be completely understandable.

"Yes, good." He echoes distractedly, not sounding like he really knew what he was saying. His finger traces over the hem of his sleeve before he speaks again, abruptly this time.

"Sadako-san?"

"Yes?" She asks.

"Do you know if my daughter came in recently?" He asks, brow wrinkling. Sadako carefully thinks back to her interaction with Noriko.

"Not that I have seen, no. She said she had been outside all day, and I was sitting on the porch, so…."

With that, the tension seems to leave his body, and Sadako thinks a man less elegant would have sagged in relief. Instead, though, he smiles at her again, the corners of his eyes crinkling, looking truly relieved by her answer. It's all in all, incredibly baffling.

"I see. I will put this away, then. Say hello to Aiya-san for me."

"I will, Eiichiro-sama." She says. He nods at her again, his attention turning to the wall hanging still tenderly cradled in his arms.

The look on his face is a strange mixture—reverent, tense, and almost…sad, but the moment passes, he briskly but carefully folds it up, and goes down the hall, vanishing into the gloom of an unlit corridor.

Sadako stares after him for a brief moment, then, water forgotten, turns around and returns to the spring's celebration.

**AN: Alright, now this is up to speed until the 15th, when another chapter will be posted. Hope you've enjoyed reading it!**


	6. Nanae (A Sunshine Celebration)

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who left kudos! I'm already seeing the appeal of this site lol, and I appreciate you guys reading!**

The day begins as it always did—the trill of the alarm clock shrilling through the compound, pulling Nanae from her dreamless sleep. Carefully, she rises, tucking her feet in the rosy pink slippers Aiya had gotten her for a birthday years ago. She tucks the blindingly white sheets in tight, and pull and smooth her lemon-yellow coverlet over the pillows of the same shade—the other side, Shijin's side—always remaining undisturbed, no matter how she tossed and turned.

Next came breakfast. A kettle on the stove, a quick shower while the water boiled. Pick out an outfit, brush her hair through. It was always the same, egg whisked into hot rice and strips of salty seaweed, a cup of hot tea accompanying it, and another cupful while she rifled through her mail—bills, letters from friends far away, sometimes even a fan letter or two.

It was a quiet, solitary existence she led, which suited her just fine. She reveled in the peace of her life, gentle days rolling by as the warm sun cast dappled light on the floorboards. One day like another like another, in the peace of the apartment she had called home for so long.

But today is not so quiet, and after Nanae washes and dries her dishes, she shrugs on her coat—heavy and woolen, doing up each engraved button one by one. Briefly, she lingers by the fireplace. It's stacked with photos—Sadako and Shōri first as chubby cheeked babies, then toddlers, then adults with spouses of their own. Carefully tucked next to a family photo of the four of them is a lone picture of her husband, smiling widely as his children squirm in his arms, his hair unruly as ever. She smiles at the scene.

"I wish you were here." She whispers, more reminiscent then sorrowful, pressing a kiss to her fingertips and brushing it onto the cool glass. Quietly, she turns and leaves, and lets the door fall shut behind her.

* * *

It is a walk that Nanae knows by heart, the path to the Uchiha compound. It's always busy—its own little beating heart, the only difference that the hair and eyes tends to be uniformly dark, that the Uchiha symbol is found everywhere—every house, every stall in the tiny little market is emblazoned with the red and white uchiwa.

When she arrives at Eiichiro and Kotone's home, Eiichiro alone greets her, leading her through the elegant building to the living room, where various assorted sweets are laid out on fine white china as he ushers her toward the chair. Sadako and Aiya had been unable to attend—Sadako was doing business in the Land of Clouds, while the newest issue of the magazine had Aiya working night and day. Instead, they had sent along their profusest apologies, a promise of visiting as soon as they were able, and two large boxes wrapped in pink tissue paper, which Nanae had already handed off to the parents of the children in question.

"You are doing well, I hope, Nanae-san?" He inquires as the two sit, pouring her a cup of tea.

"I am, Eiichiro-san. And you and Kotone are as well?"

"Indeed we are, thank you. Kotone has gone out to pick up a cake from the bakery for a snack beforehand. We had to hide it from Hisayo though, else she would have insisted on doing it herself, though we've already told her that she's done so much already."

The two chuckle in unison at that. Hisayo is a good-natured woman, kind and sensible and grandmotherly in all the best of ways, but Nanae has no doubt that she is a formidable opponent to anyone. Even the Hokage would shudder if he had to face her down.

"I can hardly believe an entire year has gone by." She says wistfully, taking a sip of the fragrant tea. It's near unbelievable to her, truly, that the days had flown by so. It had been a very great surprise to Nanae, Sadako and Aiya when Shōri had, half crying with joy, told them that they had twins, but now she could not imagine either on their own. They were Mikoto and Machiko, Michan and Machan, their names said in a single breath. And now they were already a year old.

"Indeed, it has been most eventful. And the erabitori promises to be interesting, I believe Hisayo and Kotone have a bet going." He chuckles, and sets down his cup, continuing.

"Hisayo is under the impression that Mikoto looks so much like Noriko as a child, that she will follow in her footsteps and take the shuriken. Kotone thinks the doll, because Mikoto has a fondness for them already."

"A fair assessment." Nanae says with a laugh. Mikoto had certainly displayed a propensity for them. Her newest hobby, as Nanae recalled, was trying to feed them, leading to oftentimes messy results.

"What about Machiko?"

"Neither are sure, with her. They asked me to ask you what Shōri picked."

Nanae pauses, considering. It's true that, if one broke it down to the barest essentials, Mikoto took after her mother, and Machiko after her father in terms of coloring, although Eiichiro, Kotone _and_ Hisayo had all mentioned that they both looked like Noriko as a newborn. Both had dark hair, but Machiko's had filled in more unruly and wavy in tufts, versus Mikoto's, which had stayed stick straight and finely pressed to her forehead. Neither had inherited the crystal blue eyes of their father, but Machiko _had_ inherited the warmth and color of his skin, while Mikoto's had stayed white and as porcelain.

In manner, however, she would almost consider them switched. Mikoto had a child's exuberance and delight with the world—although Nanae suspected it would mellow with age. Machiko was quieter, solemner almost, watching the world curiously. She didn't fuss, didn't cry often, and when she needed a nap or was hungry, she would tug on the sleeve of whoever was holding her—on the rare occasion someone wasn't, she would wait quietly until someone came to check on her. She slept through the night, and seemed to soothe her sister to do the same. All in all, she was a careful, even-tempered child, and Nanae could hardly disagree with her son's assessment that two children was actually easier then one in this case, as Mikoto followed her sister's lead.

Sometimes, though, she wondered what this meant. It was _easier,_ yes, when needless tantrums were avoided, but it was not an abnormal thing for a child to do. She always had the sinking feeling that Machiko might be able to regulate herself so well, because when she _hadn't,_ she had been in pain because of it.

But they are far too young to contextualize or say that kind of thing, she knows, she can't exactly ask a one year old. Her concerns will probably linger until they're old enough—and hopefully, that will mean Machiko will get help if she needs it.

"The doll. Perhaps if Mikoto takes the shuriken, Machiko will take the doll." She says finally, pretending like she was surveying the selection of sweets. He nods in agreement.

"Indeed, the resemblance is striking between the two. Between Machiko as well, of course." He beckons her closer, pointing at their mantle, which Nanae now notices carries several pictures. That's something, she thinks wryly, that they have in common—her colorful little apartment and this elegant house, united through a shared love of showing off their children, as most parents did. She takes a closer look, peering at the black and white pictures.

There are some of Shōri and the twins interspersed between, but mainly, it's Noriko growing up, from a downy haired baby in the arms of a much-younger looking Kotone and Eiichiro, to her with her own children in her arms. It's a sweet look at a woman she had never come into contact with before her son had come home love-struck, and she's careful to absorb every detail on every one.

There's a picture on the mantle that she lingers by. It's Noriko—roughly seven or so, a hitai-ate wrapped around her forehead, dark bangs brushing over and nearly obscuring the leaf symbol engraved on it. There's a firm, unwavering expression on her face, at odds with her clear youth, the way her cheeks are still round and soft, but there's unmistakable _pride_ in her eyes, in the way she holds herself. Kotone and Eiichiro stand behind her, each with a hand on her shoulder. Eiichiro follows her gaze, eyes alighting on the picture. His face softens somewhat when he sees it.

"It was taken when she first graduated from the Academy." He says by way of explanation. Nanae tries to wrap her head around the idea of becoming a ninja at _seven,_ and utterly fails to imagine it.

Ninja had always been a strange but integral part of her reality. Few Uchiha knew a life without them. Her parents had both served as administrators for the Police Force. It had only been when she had broken free of the bubble that she had realized how insular life in the compound was. Though the Uchiha had joined with the Senju in order to create Konoha, it really seemed sometimes that there was a wall between them—the Uchiha married other Uchiha, they worked with other Uchiha, they had Uchiha children, versus the Senju, which had dispersed so widely among the citizens of Konoha that there were few who could not claim some sort of Senju ancestry or friendship, no matter how distant or small. After she had left the clan to marry Shijin—and that had been so long ago—ninja had faded into the background noise of her life. They were there, certainly, but they moved in different circles, went to different places, and at their core were just so fundamentally _different,_ in both life lived and who they were, that Nanae could say the only ninja she had kept a consistent relationship with were Eiichiro and Noriko. And considering Noriko had been one for less then a year after she and Shōri were wed, and she had only known Eiichiro when he had been an administrator rather than a field medic, it seemed unfair to even call it that. It seemed the hardest thing in the world, she thought, to know the people you loved most were in constant danger. She did not know if she could have handled it well, if either Sadako or Shōri had come to her wanting to be a ninja. It would have been highly unlikely of course, neither had any disposition toward it mentally or physically, but still.

Eiichiro continues talking, eyes fixed on the picture.

"It was not an everyday occurrence, to graduate as young as she did. She was only seven, and ten when she became a chunin. She would have become one earlier, but I didn't allow her to take the exams until then. She was...rather cross with me about it, but I thought it better to wait till she was older."

He chuckles softly, the sound slightly bittersweet. Nanae wrangles down the urge to comment that that _still_ seemed remarkably young, instead electing to peer a little closer at another picture, more shunted off to the side. Noriko's older in this one, probably ten to twelve, and a man that she doesn't recognize is beside her—maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, with a shock of dark hair and a prominent, x-shaped scar on his chin. He looks stern and commanding. Noriko—she doesn't look scared, exactly, but she looks—

Unhappy, she finally settles. Noriko doesn't look happy, but straight backed and stiff, with a grim slant to her mouth, eyes slightly averted from the camera. Tense. Joyless. The next pictures—from youth to teen to young adult—are much the same. All with the hitai-ate shining proudly on her forehead, all with that grim, sad look in her eyes. The only picture in a long row without that look is her wedding picture, and it's only when she starts appearing in photos sitting down, looking around the age that Nanae knew her, that the smile begins to return to her eyes.

Eiichiro follows her gaze to the picture, stiffening when he catches sight of it and standing a little straighter. She pretends not to notice how his knuckles whiten.

"Her with her sensei, Danzō Shimura." He says in clipped tones.

The name is vaguely familiar. Eiichiro seems to notice her confusion, and elaborates briefly.

"He is an advisor to the Hokage, a former teammate of his...It was a great honor to be afforded, that she would learn under him." He says, in forced neutral tones, though Nanae thinks his expression means it was anything but. Surely, such an illustrious teacher would have pleased him—but instead, what looks very much like anger boils in his eyes. Fury radiates from every line of his body, and his eyes are cold and hard—not when he looks at Nanae, or Noriko, but rather the man, his lips pressed together so tightly they're nothing more than a thin line.

She doesn't understand it, not at all. Doesn't understand why he's so tense, doesn't understand why the name Danzō Shimura seems to fill him with such anger, doesn't understand what happened between the proud, joyous girl in the graduation picture and the grim-eyed one, and she doesn't want to.

The world of a ninja has never been one she has delved into, but Nanae has never seen Eiichiro angry, and she certainly has no desire to do so now, so she hastily switches the topic to the girls teething, turning away from the photo as if it no longer holds her interest. Eiichiro seems to take the change in subject gratefully, and turns from the mantle almost eagerly, and by the time Kotone returns, holding a large white box with the seal of the nearby bakery on it, there is no trace of the fury that had gripped him earlier as he takes the box and kisses his wife's cheek, still holding the discussion with Nanae about good shoe stores in Konoha to go to.

She lingers as the two get ready to depart, and hesitates as they go through the door, taking one last glance at the mantle with Noriko and her sensei. It is likely her imagination, but his eyes still seem to bore into her—hash, judgmental and cold. Completely merciless, not even a facade of joy for the picture.

She lets out an involuntary shudder, and leaves the room without looking back

* * *

Hisayo greets them with a wide smile and a stern chiding when she sees the cake Eiichiro still holds.

"Now, really! I could have made it!" She exclaims after all the fond greetings, as they slide it carefully into the icebox.

"You work so hard already, Hisayo. We want you to completely enjoy the day." Nanae assures her. The woman _hmmphs,_ but she is smiling, and quickly turns her attentions to other things, like the girls and how they're doing. She listens with interest.

"Actually, _this_ compound was made by the first Hokage when Noriko was not much more than a babe."

 _"_ Really? The entire house?" Nanae says, surprised and intrigued. His capabilities were the stuff of legend, but she had never imagined it as something like this. Hisayo nods, her eyes crinkling in reminiscence before they soften.

"This is actually the second compound he made. The first—there was a fire, and much of the interior was ruined." Her smile dims, but she rallies herself quickly, with a laugh and another gentle pat to the nearest column.

"It's near identical though—in all the ways that count, at least—and it's quite a lovely place, Hokage-sama was always a generous man."

"Indeed. It's quite lovely." Nanae agrees, looking around the compound with new eyes. Hisayo seems delighted by her interest, and regales her with facts about the making, which Nanae listens to with interest. Truly, the more she learned about the passed First Hokage, the more she could admire about him. There were few who could say they disliked him, even while the Uchiha maintained a strong grudge against the Second, it was impossible to dislike Hashimara Senju. His dream had been too good, his devotion and kindness too well respected. There was at least begrudging respect for him, even among the clan elders most critical of Tobirama.

(And, she thinks wryly, there were a _lot_ of those.)

"Nanae-sama." Her daughter in law's voice floats down the hallway, Noriko bouncing a child in her arms. Machiko, she guesses from the look of her.

"Noriko." Nanae says warmly, pressing a kiss to her daughter in law's cheek. She clasps her arm with surprising strength, gaze crinkling with warmth.

"I'm glad you could make it." Nanae smiles at her.

"I am too."

"Kaa-chan!" Shōri chirps brightly, giving her a one armed hug. The girl in his arm gurgles in delight.

"Babababa!" She babbles, kicking her legs energetically as she impatiently makes grabby hands in her direction.

"Hello, Shōri. _Hello_ , Michan." She laughs, lifting her granddaughter and pressing a flurry of kisses to her face while the girl writhes and squeals.

"Baba nooo!" She giggles, pushing at Nanae's face and squirming out of her grip.

"Alright, alright, let your grandmother indulge a bit." Nanae faux-chides. With a final noisy kiss, which she giggles at with glee, she returns her to Shōri and turns her attention to Machiko, who is quiet but warm-eyed as she watches her sister. Noriko carefully drops Machiko into her arms, the weight of it comforting.

"Baba." Machiko greets softly, pressing a little kiss to her cheek, and burying her head in the crook of Nanae's neck. She shifts to better carry her weight—she's getting so _big_ now—and flashes a smile at her daughter in law and son, who return it.

"Hi, Machan." She coos, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Are you doing well?"

"Okay."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Machiko doesn't respond, just squeezes a little tighter and Nanae smiles, not bothering to hide her smile as the group moves as one farther into the house.

"Baba baba, I got a new dress! See?" Mikoto asks excitedly, pointing at herself.

"It looks wonderful, Michan." Nanae praises the girl. She beams, and there's a soft giggle from Machiko—though she is composed by the time Nanae looks at her.

There's a little room that has been cleared of much in the way of furniture they all file into. Nanae spots the naming cards Shōri made a little less than a year ago—Mikoto and Machiko, flanked by ones that read _Noriko and Nozomi,_ and then _Eiichiro,_ and then _Aoi and Akari._

"My grandmother was so confident that I was going to be a twin, she made two." Noriko says with a laugh, seeming to note her confusion.

"Kaa-chan and Tou-san chose the name Nozomi in case, but it ended up being just me. Mother says that Grandmother was shocked. Turns out she was right about twins running in the family—just a generation off." Nanae nods.

"I remember that. Although it's generally only something that happens in the main line, yes?" Nanae thinks back to the old stories she heard.

"At least, only one with recorded consistency, yes." Noriko agrees. Nanae nods. Her education had certainly included the tales of Hitomi and Hihana—Hitomi bearing the son that would take his name and sigil from her fan, and Hihana, the warrior miko who had cleansed what would later become the Land of Clouds of evil. She had never wed, or borne children, which in a way made a certain amount of practical sense. The eldest branches of the clans—the ones who were most likely to be able to develop the Sharingan—took incredible care in their lineage. They rarely married _into_ other clans, instead preferring, if necessary, to take the outside partner into the clan, so that they would be able to control who had access to their signature dōjutsu. However, it had lead to a belief that the elder of the twins would always marry and have children, while the younger wouldn't.

Yang and Yin, Life and Death. One to continue the line of Uchiha, protect the physical world, and one to understand and become one with the spiritual. That had been how it had always been handed down—the elder to bear life, the younger to become in tune with death.

Superstition, of course. No more indicative than the erabitori of a child's nature—simply an old but enjoyable tradition people still liked to follow and think of.

"Indeed. She was into legend—twins, ancient chakra, living history—"

"Living history?" Nanae says curiously. The twins are familiar, this concept is not. Noriko shrugs, not looking very bothered.

"My grandmother was apparently an odd woman. My great-aunt wasn't much better." She says with a dry smile.

"Did you know her?" Nanae asks curiously, then flushes at the rudeness of her question. Noriko doesn't seem to take offense, though, simply shakes her head.

"No, she died when I was 5. My great-aunt apparently left around then as well."

"I see." Nanae says. To hide her awkwardness, she looks down and begins fiddling with Machiko's hair. The girl leans into her touch quietly.

"Yes." Noriko continues.

"I became a ninja—two? Years after she died, which is really the earliest I remember things of. Then at ten I became a chunin, and twelve a jonin."

"Your father mentioned you were not pleased he wouldn't let you do so earlier."

Nanae chuckles. Noriko does as well, before her expression fades into thoughtfulness.

"Well, I was mad at the time." Noriko says, consideringly, hands running idly through her daughter's hair.

"But after all of it...I am grateful that he didn't let me grow up too fast."

A shadow passes her face, and for a second she looks haunted until her expression returns to serenity. Nanae is uncomfortably reminded of her face in the picture.

"I hope to do the same with the girls." She continues, not missing a beat.

"Whatever they want to do in life, I will support them as best I can."

"I'm glad to hear it." Nanae says with a smile, pretending she hadn't seen Noriko's mask slip ever so briefly. The others return, and it is time to begin. She relinquishes her granddaughter to her son, and steps back as Noriko rolls out the mat and places the objects down.

The group is significantly smaller—only immediate family this time, huddled around the two children. She counts out all of the objects in question. A long string of ryō coins to represent wealth, a writing brush for art, a mahjong tablet for luck, a book for intelligence, chopsticks for always eating well, a (toy, _obviously_ ) shuriken for being a strong ninja, all carefully laid out on a tatami mat in front of the two of them. She had gone through the same with her children—minus the shuriken, however, neither of them had even considered that a possibility for them.

First, Mikoto is placed carefully down in front of them, Machiko cradled in her father's arms for her turn. With an excited giggle, she grabs for the shuriken, and from the corner of her eye she sees Machiko wince as if slapped—although she knows that's a ridiculous notion, she cannot help but start at it. Mikoto attempts to poke her hand through the hole—when that fails, she coos and grabs both that and the doll simultaneously. Nanae sees Hisayo and Kotone exchange wry looks.

"Bababa." She babbles, lifting her arms in the universal _up_ motion. Her mother obliges, scooping her up gracefully. Next, it's Machiko's turn.

Unlike Mikoto's impulsive, quick choice, the girl seems to take her time, carefully looking over her options. She lets her hand pass over the shuriken lightly, and a look that Nanae can only describe as _unsure_ crosses her face, before with a careful kind of deliberation, she curls her pudgy fingers around the writing brush.

It is _Eiichiro_ who flinches that time, although it's so miniscule she's not sure if she imagined it or not. His composure quickly returns, though, and when he compliments his daughter he is nothing but calm and ordered as the group begins congratulating them.

"I guess Machiko's following in my footsteps, then!" Shōri says with a wide smile, scooping up the girl in question and bouncing her. There's an almost pensive look to her, but she bears the gushing with equanimity as her and Mikoto are sat side by side while Hisayo begins cutting slices of the cake and pouring out sake to drink. Nanae demurs the alcohol, but does accept a small sliver of the strawberry-pink cake, setting it to the side while she settles more onto her place in the ground and watches Noriko slip the backpacks filled with the isshou mochi onto the two girls, hefting them to their feet.

Mikoto's first steps are cautious, and she stumbles—Machiko making a brief movement that looks like she is attempting to steady her sister, the end result being they both topple over, landing ungracefully on their bottoms, Machiko stumbling down a little after Mikoto. Mikoto gives her mother a betrayed look, Machiko an utterly baffled one, and Nanae has to stifle a giggle at their combined expressions.

"Why." Machiko's question, delivered flatly, is enough to make Shōri puff out his cheeks in a vain attempt not to laugh. He nearly succeeds. Eiichiro coughs loudly, trying to hide his grin, Hisayo simply laughs, and Noriko, Kotone and Nanae exchange looks before Kotone has to quickly turn her head to hide her smile.

"Perhaps it's a sign that they'll always be together." Kotone suggests once the laughter dies down, and a murmur of agreement goes around the group.

"They'll always have each other, that's for sure." Shōri says with a smile, slipping the girls out of the backpacks. Eiichiro's gaze flickers to the cards, and Nanae sees Kotone's gaze follow his, before she subtly puts a hand on his knee. She averts her gaze from the private scene just in time to meet Shōri's invitation for them to all go into the kitchen, which she accepts quickly.

The rest of the celebration is passed in pleasant idleness, mostly consisting of watching the girls run around—tripping over their own feet half the time while making light conversation. Mikoto makes a determined effort to eat her body weight in cake, a record that Machiko does not even attempt to usurp. Mostly, they giggle amongst themselves as they walk between the party-goers.

"Baba wanna play?" Mikoto asks hopefully, tugging at her sleeve as Machiko hovers behind her, and Nanae smiles.

"Of course." She says readily.

"What are we playing?" Mikoto brightens.

"I wanna ninja!" The girl says, jumping up and down, waving her arms. It's hardly a shock—the most civilian of families in Konoha have their children running through the streets and pretending to be the Hokage and his guards, but with the recentness of the erabitori, it takes a second for Nanae to reply. Mikoto clearly noticed nothing amiss, but Machiko's gaze flickers up to her, before it returns once more with impassivity to her sister.

"Of course. I don't know how to play, though, can you show me?" Mikoto nods eagerly.

"Yeah! Machan chase me!" She demands, taking off immediately. Machiko stares after her for a second, and with an air of long-suffering patience, takes off in pursuit.

The two run for a bit, Mikoto helpfully showing Nanae how to play (this is where you spit water, and _this_ is where you throw a stick—) when Mikoto skids, arms pinwheeling in the air as she tries to regain balance, and ends up crashing onto the ground with an audiable _thump._ Dirt tracks stain her dress, and her lower lip begins to wobble as her eyes fill with tears and she takes great, heaving breaths.

Nanae can see a meltdown coming a mile away, and already Noriko and Shōri are rising from their seats when Machiko, in significantly more careful manner than her sister, sits down next to her sister, takes a heaping handful of mud, and smashes it onto her own face.

The tears instantly evaporate into giggles, and Machiko smiles, a glimmer of satisfaction on her face.

"Machan! That's _gross_!" She squeals, jumping to her feet and darting away, her sister following hot on her heels. Crisis averted, the two sit, and Nanae settles back down in order to watch the two sprinting across the green.

No, Nanae thinks as she watches them scramble over the slopes of grass. She doesn't know the world they were born into, and she doesn't think she'll ever truly understand, but that's okay.

She doesn't know the life of a ninja, doesn't know what faces them but she does know one thing—that they'll have her—and each other—every step of the way.

 **A/N: I** **t's my birthday! yeah!**

**So in case you haven't noticed, there will be a lot of slice-of-life to this. It will definitely end up funnier later—they've just turned one, so there's not exactly a lot Machiko can _do_ right now, but there's going to be more of a time skip in the next chapter—so some actual talking! Woo-hoo!**

**Please read/review, see you next week!**


	7. Yukika (A Day Playdate)

Yukika had walked the path to this house many, many times, to the point where she thinks she could do it with her eyes closed. It's a very pleasant walk, with the heady scent of flowers in the air, and she finds herself lingering, wanting to enjoy the sun on her face as long as possible. Her daughter impatiently pulls ahead, only restrained by her called out admonishments as they make their way to the house of Noriko and Shōri Uchiha.

It had been more accident than anything when she had struck up a friendship with them. As it turns out, the blue-eyed man who she bumped into in the babyfood section and swapped homemade recipes (she was partial to the banana peach herself, as she always had it on hand) was actually the husband of one of the most important Uchiha in the village, their lack of political acumen over the last three generations notwithstanding. They had never been anything but incredibly cordial to her, however, despite being nobody of note, and she always pleasantly surprised when they invited her over. She had even taken great care to brush out Kanako's hair, though from the look of it it would be a lost cause in a manner of minutes.

Shizuka, her elder daughter, was fond of the girls—it was hard not to be, and she had already been rather good with children to begin with. A five year age difference with the twins, however, meant that she preferred to hang out with her friends instead, and so had declined when Yukika asked if she wanted to come over. Kanako, however, though two years their senior, simply adored the twins, which was a pleasant surprise especially regarding her stance on babies (gross and boring, in her own terms). Perhaps it was because they were always willing to play with her, perhaps it was because she liked being the "big sister" to someone, but either way, Yukika barely had to get out the words "play date with the twins" before Kanako was ready and raring to go.

The second they stepped into the courtyard Kanako made a beeline for the two sisters sitting on the grass, dressed identically in blue haori, while their mother sits on the steps above them, glossy black hair tied with ornamental flowers. She smiles at Yukika's compliment of such.

"Thank you. Shōri got them for me." She says, touching the decorations and sounding extraordinarily fond. Yukika smiles.

"What a doting husband you have. Perhaps he ought to give my husband some pointers." She teases, though she doesn't really mean it. Pleasantries aside, she takes a seat beside the younger woman, who scoots to accommodate her.

"Just you today?"

"Just us." Noriko confirms.

"Shōri went to meet an old friend of his, and Hisayo's gone to see her daughter in the Land of Clouds. She won't be back till next weekend."

"Please do let us know when he opens his commissions again." Yukika requests, completely sincerely.

"We get so many compliments on our painting, he did such an excellent job." She spoke completely from the heart. With her (and Noriko's, of course) encouragement, Shōri had reopened his artistic commissions. Some of the earlier may have been out of novelty—imagine, such a great line's work for hire—but his impressive skill gathered even greater interest. Now, he had relayed happily to Yukika, he had a waiting list. She had been lucky to get one as early as she did, and for a reduced price at that!

"I'll be sure to pass along the message." Noriko says with a smile.

The excited rambling of the children interrupts whatever Yukika was going to say next, the girls seeming invested in assigning roles for their game. It was oftentimes ninja—not a surprise. Noriko and Yukika had both been so, although Yukika had never done more then a handful of missions in the field, preferring instead her work in the force. Pushing papers might not be the most exciting, but it gave her a steady paycheck to supplement the work of her husband and made sure she was home in time to pick the girls up from school. Though they changed constantly, it seemed a certainty that Machiko would gamely step up and offer to be the antagonistic force, whatever it would be, taking her inevitable defeat by Mikoto and Kanako with her own particular brand of good humor. It was almost indulgent, the way she treated them, honestly it reminded her more of Shizuka than anything.

As she had expected, Machiko offered to be the bandit, wheras Mikoto and Kanako quickly assigned themselves shinobi—a brief discussion occurs over _what_ kind of shinobi and weapons they have. Mikoto quickly picks up a springy leaf and declares it her _super cool sword,_ while Kanako loudly proclaims she's an Earth-type. Machiko looks around, her eyes lighting on a small, stubby branch, she picks it up.

"This is my sonic screwdriver." She declares to the courtyard at large. Mikoto squints her eyes at her.

"What's that do?" Kanako says suspiciously. She shrugs offhandedly.

"It can hack into computers."

"Why are we hacking into computers?"

"You're not hacking into computers, _I'm_ hacking into computers. Also, it lets out a sonic blast."

"Sonic?"

"Really loud noise." Machiko clarifies. Mikoto and Kanako briefly have a hushed discussion before they allow it, and Yukika catches Noriko hiding a smile behind the fold of her sleeve. Really now, she thinks with a shake of her head, amused. What an odd toy to chose.

"Say something evil." Kanako urges of Machiko, the debate over weapons done. She nods.

"Okay—uh—I love crime." The girl says, absolutely deadpan. Her sister giggles.

"No, Machan, you gotta be more eviilllll." She chides. Machiko nods, seeming to take that note seriously.

"Okay. I _love_ crime, _so_ much, and I also love slapping puppies." The girl pauses, then adds.

"And spitting on babies. And I _don't_ like Ninja Power Adventure."

Yukika recalls, briefly, that Ninja Power Adventure is one of those cartoons that Kanako loves to watch, and from the look on Mikoto's face, she's not the only one. She looks absolutely _scandalized_ , and Noriko exchanges a wry look with Yukika before both turn their attention back to the girls, now focused on Machiko's words rather than the game.

"Machiko, you _gotta_ like Ninja Power Adventure! They're so cool!" Kanako wheedles, and Machiko shrugs, looking amused.

"—aha! Distraction!" She lunges at Mikoto, who lets out a shriek Yukika winces at the decibel of, and it's off the the races, the girls racing around the courtyard, shouting out what they're doing. The two women watch, laughing or calling encouragement in turn.

"Never underestimate the trouble two girls can cause. I suppose you know that as well as I." Noriko says with a laugh.

"We're trying for another one, actually." Yukika mentions, and Noriko makes an interested noise.

"Have any names?"

"Not yet. I think Shizuka would like another sister, though, and I think three girls might be nice." Yukika says thoughtfully. Noriko nods.

"Certainly, your husband will pleased to have another to dote on." Yukika nods in acknowledgment of her words.

"Are you planning on more?" Yukika inquires of her. With the girls rapidly approaching two, it seemed the best time to allow a bit of a gap while still letting them relate to each other. Shōri seemed the type enthusiastic for a larger family, but that might have been sated with twins, and she was unable to read Noriko's intentions.

"Oh—" Noriko laughs, sounding startled and thoughtful at the same time. Her hand goes to her abdomen almost unconsciously.

"You know, I don't really know. I think Shōri would like another." She says, sounding thoughtful.

"He hasn't said anything, though, and I don't know if we ought to focus on the girls right now..."

"If you don't feel certain yet, you have plenty of time. You're still quite young, Noriko, and two is quite enough if you'd like it so." Yukika assures her with a chuckle. The woman nods gratefully, a faint smile on her face. Their conversation falls into easy patterns—the weather, the girls, the upcoming school year, when Noriko's gaze sharpens, dark eyes zeroing in on something beyond her shoulder.

Yukika hastily turns, looking for—well, she doesn't know what. Something that can shock the unflappable Noriko, she supposes.

"What? What is it?" She asks, but she can see nothing but the roofs, long lines of laundry swaying in the afternoon breeze.

"I thought...never mind. I was mistaken." The woman says, quickly shaking her head and smiling. Yukika privately thinks it looks rather distracted, but makes no mention of it as Noriko firmly turns the conversation back to getting the girls kimonos for their first shichi-go-san, coming up in less then a year. Perhaps early for some, but Noriko struck her as a woman prepared for anything.

 _Was it a side effect of her shinobi days,_ she wonders with a frown. She forgot, sometimes, that she had even _had_ those. They had been long before Yukika had known her, but she remembers vaguely hearing that the great-neice of Madara used to be a ninja—and a good one, too, if the rumors were even halfway right. Good enough, the whispers said, that nobody knew how good she was. That her mission records were generic— _too_ generic—and no normal jonin ever recalled running a mission with her

Yukika wasn't a fool. She knew what that meant.

She also knew she didn't want to think about it. That was then and here was now. All ninja who had stayed in the field long had done things they agonized over. This just meant that Noriko had more cause than most.

She realizes she has left it too long, and the two fall into an uncomfortable silence, which thankfully does not last long before Noriko's younger daughter approaches.

"Kaa-chan, can you cut some eggs? The girls want sandwiches." The way she says _the girls_ is like she's a third woman in their party, watching over the children, and she suppresses a smile at the adorableness of it. Noriko smiles as well.

"Of course. Can Kanako eat, Yukika?" She glances at her, and Yukika gratefully seizes on that return to normalcy.

"Yes. She ate breakfast just an hour ago, but I suppose she won't remember that." Yukika laughs. Noriko chuckles, and the two head inside, followed closely by Machiko. Noriko pulls a small carton of hard-boiled eggs out of the fridge as Yukika takes out the bread that the woman points out to her, and then both step back, Yukika watching the little girl curiously as she confidently steps forward.

The girl deftly hops up on a practically placed stool, untwining the bread tie and taking out four slices of soft white bread. With careful, practiced movements, she takes a generous helping of mayo and dumps it into the bowl of eggs as she continues to mash it around the bowl. Once done to her satisfaction, she puts it aside and turns her attention again.

Expertly, she tears off the crusts of the pillowy white bread, and heaps eggy-gold spoonfuls of the mash onto two of them, using her fork to make the layer even. Once it's packed in to her satisfaction, she places another bread slice on top and deftly cuts it into two triangles, repeating it again with the other sandwich. She glances up at Yukika.

"Could you get me the milk from the fridge please, Uchiha-san?"

Wordlessly, Yukika fetches the milk as Machiko hops down, balancing the two plates that now hold neatly made sandwiches and slides them over the table to an eagerly waiting Kanako and Mikoto, who immediately start eating like they hadn't in days, not breakfast that morning. Yukika pours them both large glassfuls, and grabs another for Machiko, who takes it with a composed _thank you._ She elects not to make herself a sandwich, instead contentedly munching on a few apple slices her mother cuts for her as everyone settles in.

"She's a little chef, already." Yukika says when they're both seated, watching the girls eat. Noriko chuckles.

"Indeed. Hisayo's quite pleased. She's doing things like sandwiches, omelettes, pancakes. Simple things, to get her used to it. She's taken to it well."

Yukika nods, suitably impressed. She knows they are nearly two—

"Is Mikoto interested as well?" Noriko shakes her head.

"She's more interested in eating what Machiko makes."

"I'd imagine." Yukika laughs. The two fall into idle chatter, the only sound in the silence until Machiko looks up from her drink.

"What's the rate of lactose intolerance in Konoha?" The question seems directed at her mother, though it draws everyone's attention.

Mikoto looks up from her sandwich.

"What's that?" She inquires innocently, wiping at her mouth with her palm—Yukika gently nudges her, and she switches to her napkin. Machiko answers swiftly.

"Tolerant means you can drink a lot of milk without getting a tummy ache."

"Oh." Mikoto considers that for a moment.

"I can do that."

"Yes."

"So I'm lah—lactuh—"

"Lactose tolerant, yes." Machiko supplies, before she looks at her mother again.

"Do you know, Kaa-chan?"

"I'm afraid I don't." Noriko says thoughtfully.

"I've never had an issue with it, and as far as I know my parents don't either. What about you, Yukika?"

"I'm not quite sure, truly." Yukika confesses, thinking of all the people she knew. Her _direct_ family seemed to have no problems, although her cousins and their inlaws rarely had dairy at their gatherings, and seemed to drink it sparingly. She relays this to Machiko, who looks thoughtful for a second.

"Could chakra makes you lactose tolerant?"

"Chakra?" Yukika echos, utterly thrown off by that. Machiko nods, toying with the rim of her cup

"Well—perhaps?" The girl nods, looking determined.

"I'll ask Dr Noharu next time I have an appointment. That's—hm, next week, so that'll be fine." She says decisively. Mikoto raises her head again, looking reabsorbed in the conversation.

"We're gonna see Dr Noharu?" Mikoto asks, sounding slightly worried. The idea of shots must loom over her, she thinks wryly. Her mother is quick to reassure her.

"No, Michan, you don't have an appointment. It's just Machiko." Noriko says swiftly. The girl considers this, and nods.

"You go to the doctor a _lot,_ Machiko." Kanako observes, not unkindly but bluntly, and Yukika winces.

" _Kanako."_ She chides quickly. She knows her daughter meant no harm with the comment, but still—

"It's okay." Machiko says quickly, cutting over any continued conversation.

"Everyone needs different things, right?"

"Yes." Yukika says hastily. Her daughter seems to accept that, and Yukika breathes another sigh of relief.

If she does not end up a chef, she thinks, Machiko would be a good diplomat.

* * *

After lunch, the girls want to play again, but Yukika and Noriko hold off on that, citing the need for digestion, and so Machiko sits them down for a story. It's clearly a common thing, by the way Mikoto brightens and immediately sits down, every move looking like it was borne of habit.

She watches too, fascinated, as the girl spins a tale, her hands making sweeping, grand gestures as she talks. Mikoto and Kanako are absorbed in her every word, mouths agape., and Yukika too finds herself listening in, impressed that so young a girl can improvise so well. Every gesture of hers is confident, like she's done this a thousand times before—perhaps she has, though her sister gasps and giggles in all the right places like it's novel to her. At the grand finale, which cumulates in a storming of the castle and a confession of love, the two burst into spontaneous applause, which Yukika joins in on.

"Excellent story, Machan. Did you make it up all by yourself?" Machiko snorts in response.

"You flatter me, Uchiha-san, but I'm not that creative. Which reminds me—" The girl turns her attention to her sister.

"Mikoto, what do we do if someone from Disney shows up?"

"Tell them it's for non-commercial use." Mikoto says dutifully, and Machiko cracks a smile.

"Good girl." She says, ruffling her sister's hair and sounding fond. She glances up at her mother again.

"Has enough time passed?"

"Yes. Have fun, girls." Noriko says, sounding amused. She flashes a smile—a gleam of white teeth, and in unison the three tumble outside. They're left alone, and Yukika moves to help Noriko with the plates, but she waves her off.

"Really, Yukika-san, you can—ah." She winces abruptly, hand dropping to her leg. Yukika gets up, alarmed, but Noriko shakes her head.

"I'm fine." She says through gritted teeth.

"Just flared up a little."

"Right." Yukika echoes, wringing her hands in front of her. Noriko seems to notice the question in her gaze, she chuckles lightly. She doesn't seem offended, though Yukika guesses she is probably a better liar then Yukika could ever trust her senses with.

"It's getting better." She assures her.

"I'll never be fully healed enough to return to...my work. But I'm getting better."

"Do you miss it?" Yukika asks curiously, she can hardly help it. Noriko pauses, as if she heard the undercurrent, her jaw working as she stares out at her daughters tussling.

"I wouldn't trade it." She answers, and it's not what Yukika asked, but she does nothing but nod in acknowledgment of her words. Noriko finishes rinsing the plates. Yukika pushes the chairs in. Together, they sit, and watch the children play.

**AN: Lol this one came together way later then I wanted it to, so if it feels a little rough sorry! I've got two questions for you**

**1\. What do you think Yukika thinks about Noriko's career?**

**2\. Do you think Noriko and Shōri should have another kid?**

**Thanks for reading! See you next week :)**


	8. Danji (A Teatime Visit)

Danji could say, with utter certainty, that there were a lot of things he'd rather do than this. Finish up the reports he had been putting off. Suffer through a very awkward tea with his uncle where he was given free reign with his critique of Danji's "lifestyle choices". Maybe require hospitalization for a previously unknown food illness.

"It's not too late to go to that sushi place and get food poisoning." He suggests weakly—a last ditch attempt—and his fiancée scoffs from her place as she laces up her coat nimbly.

"You don't have to freak out, Danji." Umeko says, brushing a lock of her vivid plum-colored hair behind her ear. Her engagement ring sparkles on her finger, and she flashes him a comforting smile, brushing her hand across his cheek in comfort.

"We're just seeing our old teammate. She'll be glad to see us." Despite the confidence to her words, her dark eyes are unsure. Danji finds himself mirroring that, and though he presses a fleeting kiss to her palms, he feels only a little better as they begin their walk. They politely dodge their way past nosy neighbors, into a street where the summer air is just beginning to crisp from the encroaching fall.

As they walk, Danji entertains himself with trying to note every place he had been too. They inevitably end up ninja-related, so he drops it quickly. His thoughts turn, almost inexorably to his former teammate. To Umeko—of course the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, to his sensei—the uncle he wishes his mother wasn't so adamant he "form good relations" with, and Noriko.

It had been years since he had been in contact with Noriko Uchiha, longer since they had come face to face. It had been clear from the very beginning that his uncle expected the greatest things from her, and though she had been nothing more than a child, the age of his youngest sister, from the very beginning he had learned not to treat her in such a way. She bristled at the thought that anyone pitied her for her youth, and her way of addressing that problem was generally to pulverize the pitier, watched over by the approving Danzō.

After all three had become chunin—less than a half year after they had graduated with a team— Umeko and Danji had lost contact with Noriko. He was personally inclined to think it the best. They had never been friends, or particularly—the six year age gap took care of that, and his uncle had always made it clear that he expected greater things out of Noriko by the time she was ten then Danji in his whole life. It stung, yes, as did the suspicion that had their Academy class not been the same, his uncle would have mentored Noriko over him, but he couldn't deny the validity of the idea. He had never claimed to be exceptional, nor did he have any desire to _make_ himself so.

Their duties in the village were vastly different—Danji had taken up a position in Records, to his uncle's displeasure, and Umeko had found her calling as a teacher at the Academy. And Noriko, apparently had retired from active duty due to injury—he finds himself wincing at the thought. If there was something that the greatest shinobi had in common, it was that they _hated_ losing. Noriko would be no exception.

So yes, perhaps it was cowardice that had kept him silent. It was certainly guilt—the wild thought that she would be angry that he had managed to continue his ninja career when she, every way his superior in skill, hadn't. It had been more of a formality than anything to send her a wedding invitation. He did not think she would accept—she had declined every get-together and gathering of Academy students as far as he had known, and though they had been teammates, they had not been friends.

But then the invitation had come back with acceptance, and not only that, an invitation to _tea._ At her _house._ He had been sure he had misread it, it almost sounded _pleased_. There was no bitterness or ill will to the letter, but then Noriko was very good at hiding anything she thought could be perceived as weakness. He had no idea what to expect.

A woman desperately trying to cling to her glory as a ninja, doing physical therapy whenever she had the chance? Resigned to her fate and turned to drink (he was prepared to stage an intervention if that was the case)? Or perhaps the rumor was false—Noriko was as hale and healthy as ever. He had heard it from several people, including those on closer terms, but maybe it was some twisted ANBU thing that they found funny.

Technically speaking, Danji wasn't supposed to know about the ANBU thing, but technically speaking he also wasn't either an idiot or blind. Noriko was sharp. Keen and ambitious, _terrifyingly_ talented, possessing a drive that even his uncle approved of, and his uncle didn't approve of _anything._ His uncle, though he would never have involved Danji in such a situation (more out of a lack of trust, he assumed, then a desire to "keep him safe"), was exactly the kind of man who would say things like "this is all in service for the greater good" un-ironically and without a trace of self-reflection.

Danji had seen death. He had been on the receiving end, and doled it out himself—if not _himself,_ then in an operation where a person died. _Someone_ died. He held no illusions to the nature of his work, and after the requisite field work, he had decided it wasn't for him. Most didn't. When push came to shove and life came to death, most people lost their nerve when confronted with mortality. If they didn't quit entirely, they went into administrative work.

Noriko hadn't. She had always been willing to push, the harsh light in her dark eyes sharp enough to cut.

(He thinks of a porcelain mask painted with strokes as red as blood, over a face he still remembered round with baby fat, and winces despite himself.)

So, yes. There were a lot of ways this could go. Utter disaster, both pretending to be okay and comfortable, perhaps an outright fight.

But, he thinks, hand in hand with Umeko and staring up at the house listed on the address, this would be a rather odd start to the last.

It's...homey. Rich green grass, brightly colored flowers, the sound of the compound around them cut off to a peaceful murmur. It's lovely, even as it makes him realize with a guilty start that he had never gone to her house prior to this. Was this a family home?

Umeko and Danji exchange glances, and carefully, Danji pushes it open. It swings noiselessly into the verdant green of the smaller compound, and they cross the threshold.

His first thought is that she looks older. The second thing is chiding himself for it. Of _course_ she looks older, she's not six anymore, she's twenty seven—twenty eight?. She's grown to maybe half a head shorter than him, around height with Umeko, and her hair is longer, with softly cut bangs and black hair that sweeps down to her waist. Her eyes widen when she meets Danji's gaze, and then she does something that shocks him—she _smiles._

"Danji. Umeko. I'm so glad you can make it." There's not a trace of bitterness to her voice, just genuine pleasure.

Danji trades a baffled look with Umeko before he can remember his manners. Thankfully, they recover quickly—or more accurately, Umeko recovers quickly, which distracts Noriko long enough for Danji to recover.

"Noriko!" Umeko says pleasantly, as the woman steps aside to let them in. She smiles—a flash of white teeth, eyes crinkling in genuine delight.

Danji can't help but study Noriko as she ushers them down the hallway, trying to reconcile the sharp-eyed teen with the much more gentle woman in front of them. She had always been elegant—silk hiding steel, none of which had been lost in age. There's a limp—slight, but prominent in her steps—it was not merely a rumor, then. Her hair is down—impractically long. She waves them forward, into a lovely looking kitchen—and the glitter of a wedding ring on her finger catches his immediate attention.

"You're _married_?" The words slip out of him. He clamps his mouth shut at the incredulous tone, but she seems not to notice—no, he corrects himself, she _pretends_ not to. Noriko wouldn't miss something like that.

On one hand, it seems completely normal. She's around the right age, she's got a good pension, certainly she could have some interest in some Uchiha shinobi that he didn't know.

On the other hand, she's _married._ Noriko Uchiha, the Crimson Wrath, one of the youngest ninja to ever graduate from the academy, married.

...

Yeah, okay. Today had already not been going the way he expected, might as well add _this_ to the mix.

Noriko beams— _actually_ beams—as she takes a seat, Danji and Umeko taking the seats opposite her. With deft, practiced movements, she pours them out cupfuls of still hot tea, pushing the plate of sweets toward them.

"Yes, five years. He's actually out with the children—"

The entirety of the world tilts on its axis. Again.

"You— _children?"_ Danji stammers, Umeko sitting shellshocked beside him.

"I—congratulations, Noriko. How many do you have?"

Noriko smiles, then, pouring herself another cup of tea nonchalantly.

"Two. Twin girls, nearly three already. They're shopping with Shōri, but hopefully they'll be back in time to meet you, they were very excited by the idea. " There's a sharp kind of pride in her voice.

"Ah." Danji says faintly.

"That's—lovely." He coughs, then clears his throat firmly.

"That's really lovely, Noriko." He says, stronger this time.

"Yes, absolutely." Umeko agrees readily. Noriko smiles at them, wide and genuine, before her gaze turns thoughtful.

"I'm so glad that you agreed to my invitation. I—I know it's been a while, but I was so glad to hear of your engagement, you two. It's been too long." She beams again, hands toying idly with the rim of her cup. Danji flinches, feeling a stab of guilt at the reminder. Umeko, thankfully, sweeps in.

"Of course! It's really wonderful to hear you're—doing well." Umeko says.

Yes, Danji thinks, more than well. She seems...happy. The woman seems to agree.

"Yes, I'm very happy." She says earnestly.

"I...well, I'm pleased things turned out this way. Tell me, how are preperations going?"

Danji perks up at this, slightly relieved that the conversation is back on normal ground and there's something he can politely talk about. Noriko is interested and an attentive listener, and before Danji knows it, an hour has passed in pleasant conversation between the three of themand a door slams in the distance.

"Oh, that'll be them—" Noriko starts, looking up in expectation. The clatter grows, and after a few seconds, a man steps into a room, cradling a child in each of his arms.

He's tall—probably slightly taller then Danji, with shaggy black hair and golden skin, and if Danji thought Noriko looked happy, this man was positively ecstatic. He all but dances around the table, shifting one of his daughters to seize Danji's hand with an enthusiastic smile, bright blue eyes crinkling.

"It's _so_ lovely to meet you. Noriko mentioned you were coming, I'm so glad that I managed to catch you." He says, his voice warm and bright and utterly sincere as he bounces one of the girls, handing off the other to Machiko.

"Oh, and you too, Uchiha-san." Danji says, and the man waves his hand.

"No, please, just call me Shōri." He insists with a wide smile.

"Shōri, then."

The man beams, and stepping back, he gently pokes at the girl in his arms.

"Machan, do you want to say hi to your Kaa-chan's old teammate?"

The other girl—the one in Mikoto's arms—wiggles impatiently.

"I wanna! I wanna! I'm Mikoto and that's Machiko, and we're _three."_ Mikoto says proudly, blinking up at him with large dark eyes as she points in her sister's direction. The other girl—Machiko, he corrects himself—lifts her head up, and regards him with an unreadable expression.

"Hi."

Danji opens his mouth, and closes it again.

"Ah—it's really nice to meet you, Mikoto-chan, Machiko-chan. I'm Shimura Danji." He finally stammers out, Umeko making her own greeting to Mikoto. The girl nods at him firmly, tugging gently at her father's lapel.

"Can you put me down please? On the chair, please." She requests.

She scoots herself forward, and neatly steeples her fingers. He has the strange feeling of being interrogated.

"Do you have any relationship to Shimura Danzō?" Her tone is polite, with a hint of curiosity, but Noriko tenses.

"My uncle, actually." Danji says cautiously, suddenly wary of what the point of the question is. The two of them, as far as he knew, didn't work together anymore, and it wasn't like he was a particularly likable man, but honestly, Noriko had always reminded him of his uncle more than he did.

Machiko blinks at him soundlessly, then nods.

"That's pretty rough." Her tone is totally matter-of-fact, and Danji can't help it—he laughs, startled.

"Machiko! Behave yourself!" Noriko chides, then looks at Danji apologetically.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Danji. Machiko...speaks her mind."

"She means I'm annoying." The girl chirps, sounding totally unrepentant.

"My Baba says we're menaces to society." Mikoto supplies helpfully, and from the corner of his eye he sees Umeko smother a laugh.

"Machiko, don't be rude."

" _He's_ rude!" Machiko protests, before she glances at Danji.

"Not you." She assures him.

"Your uncle. _You're_ cool."

"Oh." Danji says, surprisingly charmed by that.

"Uh, thank you. You—know my uncle?"

"By reputation _."_ Machiko says with a shrug. Her eyes flicker to Noriko, an unreadable expression on her face.

She grins—a flash of teeth that makes her look remarkably like her mother.

"Just like to keep it on the down low. Don't want ANBU knocking on my door. Actually, they probably wouldn't knock, would they?"

"They wouldn't." Noriko says automatically, then adds.

"Drink your tea."

Even though it's not directed at him Danji hastily turns his attention back to the tea, and Umeko and Shōri quickly manage to turn the conversation to the best shops in Konoha.

It—well, he wouldn't teach _his_ children about ANBU when they're so young, but he supposes they're only half the age Noriko was when she graduated ( _yikes_ , a voice in his head says that sounds remarkably like her younger daughter). They eagerly talk about the shopping they had done with their father (Danji gleans he's an artist, and resolves to see if they ought to commission anything from him), and Umeko goes off with Shōri and the girls to look at—something—leaving him with Noriko, looking for something to say. 

"I didn't know that you uh, kept in contact with him. My uncle." Danji says.

"I don't." Noriko says swiftly, and for the first time today, she sounds harsh and cold— _that_ is more like what he remembers, but it makes a sick feeling curdle in his stomach. A long, painful second of silence passes, and Noriko squeezes her eyes shut and sighs.

"I'm sorry." The admission startles him, as well as the fact that it sounds genuinely remorseful. He hastily cuts in.

"I understand, Noriko." Danji reassures her quickly, considering putting a hand on her shoulder but quickly thinking better of it.

"You—Well, you're happy, aren't you? And that's really the important thing."

It was true, he thinks. Happy in a way he had never seen her. As shockingly odd as the idea is, anathema to everything he had thought of before he, he thinks she's _glad,_ that she's content being at peace in a way that he had never thought. But, he thinks with another pang, he supposes he never really knew her, either. Coming to a decision, he pats her arm.

"We really ought to go to lunch sometime, the three of us." He says, and Noriko smiles faintly, squeezing his hand briefly.

"We should." She says, and it sounds like a promise.

* * *

The two leave in a significantly better mood then when they started, which of course means that everything takes an unfortunate turn afterward, starting with an unexpected (and rather unwelcome) guest in his living room. 

"Uncle." He says, as politely as he can. Danzō Shimura regards him with a coldly unblinking gaze—or at least, his left eye does.

"Danji." he says cooly, every syllable dripping with disdain. He glances at Umeko coldly. 

"I require to speak with you. In private." 

Umeko glances at him questioningly, and Danji does his best to muster up a smile. 

"Go on upstairs. I'll be along in a bit." He says, as cheerfully as he can, and after a searching look, she nods, squeezes his hand, and disappears. Danji takes a deep breath, plastering an unbelievably fake smile onto his face. 

"Sorry I don't have anything prepared, Uncle, I didn't know you were visiting." He says pointedly. Danzō ignores it. 

"You have renewed your friendship with Noriko, I'm told." He says flatly.

"Oh, have you?" Danji responds sarcastically, resisting the urge to shudder. Or call him a nosy asshole. Possibly both. 

"I wasn't aware you used Konoha's intelligence to keep up with local gossip, Uncle."His uncle remains unmoved. 

"Perhaps, then, you ought to take this oppurtunity to tell her to get a handle on her children." 

Danji is, for a second, too shocked to be angry—though it quickly comes. 

"I don't think that's your business." Danji bristles.

"With all due respect, Uncle, it's not your choice how Noriko raises her children."

"It's mine when it affects the village." Danji laughs incredulously.

"I—they're _three,_ Uncle!" He exclaims, throwing his arms out.

"Hardly a great concern. And besides, who _knows_ if they even want to be ninja?" Danji asks in exasperation. 

"You showcase your selfishness once more, Danji." Danzō rebukes him coldly.

"It is not about want, it is about need. The children of Noriko, the grandchildren of Eiichiro, the great-grandchildren of Aoi—they are the village's right."

"You're _unbelievable."_ Danji snaps. 

"And Noriko would be well within her rights to never speak to you again."

"Perhaps." Danzō sneers. 

"But I will do what I have to anyway." 

" _Enough_." The harshness of his voice surprises even him—it definitely does his uncle, who draws up and fixes him with an unreadable stare. 

"You are out of line." Danji warns lowly. 

"This is not your concern, Uncle, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to _leave_." 

The tense silence stretches for a harsh moment. 

"I have other things to attend to." He says finally, standing up and brushing past Danji coldly, before he frowns at him. There's something—not pride, but almost resignation in his cold gaze. 

"I wish you had shown half this much promise when I tutored you." He says, disappointment heavy in his words, before he walks past. 

The door clicks shut behind him. 

**A/N: Sorry for the delay lol. I had written another chapter, but I made the executive decision to cut down on the amount of characters—I want all the characters to show up again, and with my original plan that was going to be far too sprawling cast. Thus I had to write this instead to get things moving. I might post them separately later, lmk if that's something you'd be interested in! Also, for A03, I can put up this thing I wrote a while back that kind of takes place in Ignited—it was a reward for I think the 200th review? anyway look out for that, please read and review :).**


	9. Fumihiro (A Nighttime Meeting)

Fumihiro wishes that the night was not so lovely. It would be easier if the bad news he brought was brought by mist and gloom, but the night was clear, only the yellow moonlight lighting the flowers.

The night was quiet, only the rustle of wind through the leaves accompanying his steps. He had already gone by Eiichiro and Kotone's home, but the soft spoken gardener informed him that they were currently at their daughter's place.

On one hand, it was ripping the bandage off. On the other hand, he was going to have to face all four—three, honestly, Shōri was a good lad but he couldn't scare a kitten—and he was _not_ looking forward to that. Especially when he—they—were so clearly in the wrong.

Just outside the house, he takes a seat, telling himself that his bones needed the rest, although obviously he was simply stalling. Slumping against the fence, he lets out a small groan, dragging his hands down his face.

"This is _not_ what I accepted the position for." He says aloud. There had been a lot of reasons why he _had—_ duty, Eiichiro was _three_ , so on and so forth, but most importantly, he had thought he could do good. And perhaps he had—but that had come with consequences.

Looking out into the peaceful, deserted street, he imagines the old Uchiha compound, back when they had been in constant opposition with the Senju. It had been closed off walls of stone in a clearing, with people patrolling day and night.

It was near impossible to reconcile the horror of his childhood and youth with Konoha. With the endless pain— caused and suffered by both sides—and the bleak understanding that this was as it would always be. It had its problems, certainly, but it was better then the alternative.

That was really the problem, here, Fumihiro thought. If they knew how painful endless war was, a constant battle with constant loss, he thought they would not be so keen for another one. Most of the elders were, ironically enough, younger than him, having taken their parents positions once they had passed, and as less and less people remembered the Warring States, they became more and more willing to return to it.

There were certainly some reasonable among the bunch, but they were drowned out in the tide of righteous fury. A lot of the most important people to placate were the ones who were the angriest—who had remembered the Uchiha clan in days before Tobirama but _after_ the Warring viewed the relegation to the Police Force by the Second an attempt to leash them and make them toothless, control what they did.

To be truly honest, it hard not to feel this way, even for him—even as the Second Hokage talked of the honor and duty of such a noble task, it had always been clear that he did not like them, did not trust them, and made little attempt at hiding it. Not like the First Hokage had. It had caused many who had at first tried to make peace to start thinking that Madara maybe had a point, and that had just been a _nightmare_ from that moment forward.

But still, a thousand Hokages like Tobirama would be better than warfare, in his opinion. And so he had spent the entirety of his twenties and a significant portion of his thirties cleaning up the mess that Madara had left behind, and he had done it _well_. He had kept a peace, even when it strained at the edges. Convinced where he could, compromised where he could not, and when he saw that a cause was lost, did so with as much grace as he could muster.

It was moments like these, however, that he _really_ hated his job.

Figuring that he had stalled long enough, Fumihiro slowly pulls himself off the bench, dusts invisible grime off his robes, and pushes the gate. It swings noiselessly into the compound, and he steps inside.

Walking into this small compound always feels like stepping back fifty years. It'd be a pricey bit of real estate even without the history behind it, but the fact that Madara Uchiha had lived on this land once, that it had been the most important place after the Naka Shrine—well, he doesn't know if anyone could have afforded it. It was a moot point anyway, because it belonged to Eiichiro's family. Even the council would never have dared to try to take it.

But the compound is as it always was, beautiful and serene, done in a very old style. The hollyhocks blooming, the smell of jasmine pervading the air, heavy and heady—he half expects Aoi and Akari to be sitting on the green, Aoi with her hair spilling around her like black thread, and Akari with her strikingly resemblance to her brother, black hair wild and untamed. They had always dressed complementary to each other—Aoi in white or blue, and Akari in brilliant red.

Of course, he thinks ruefully, that would require ignoring more than a few years of his life. It was easy to imagine them young, frozen in time, when Eiichiro was nothing more than a gurgling baby, when he had seen them so little. As the years went on, they had secluded themselves more and more in their home—Aoi especially. By the time that the fire had happened, he wasn't sure when the last time he had seen the two of them was.

He winces at the memory of the fire. It had not been a good year for anyone. Eiichiro, poor man—hardly even a man, really, still practically a youth, had been shellshocked—who could blame him, his aunt vanishing in the wake of the chaos and his mother so traumatized by the incident she never lifted brush to paper again. A careless mistake, a lantern left alight by a distracted servant—and their home gone in smoke. And Aoi and Akari's work...

Well, it had been a pity, that was truly all there was to say. The Uchiha had never had anyone willing to push boundaries quite like them, and they probably wouldn't have so again.

He raps on the door. After a moment, it creaks open, and a wrinkled face pops out. Old ( _though not as old as him_ , he thinks ruefully), warm brown skin and silver hair.

"Hisayo-san." He says, nodding in greeting. He briefly recalls her when she was young—she had been even younger than him, really nothing more than a child, when she had become Aoi and Akari's attendant. She hadn't been the only one, but she was clearly the favorite, and she was the one who had stayed with them far longer than any other.

"Fumihiro-sama." She bows gracefully, ushering him in. If she's surprised by his appearance so late, she doesn't say it.

"Fumihiro." Eiichiro's voice echoes, and Fumihiro glances up at the man, who is stillhouted in the glow of the door behind him. There's a murmur of conversation behind him, so faint he can hardly hear it.

"Eiichiro." He elects to say instead, nodding.

Aoi and Akari had been tall but graceful, moving like reeds on the river. Eiichiro had his mother's grace, but he was far stronger and bulkier than she—or her brother Madara—had ever been, looming over most people. His skin is a warm tan, and his dark hair falls around his ears, one muscled arm tucked into the fold of his robe. Although there are new wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, he still looks strong and commanding. Vaguely, Fumihiro recalls that Eijirō—it had been a long time since he thought about Eijirō's father—had Shimura blood in him? His son certainly reflected that.

 _He's certainly more commanding than himself,_ Fumihiro thinks wryly. He had always been small and wiry, an unimpressive figure. His son, thank the spirits, got some of his mother's height, and his grandson even more, so it wouldn't be a complete loss.

Eiichiro smiles at him, moving forward in greeting, but his expression clouds slightly at the look Fumihiro has on his face.

"...Is everything all right?"

Fumihiro clears his throat.

"Eiichiro, I, ah—need to speak to you. And Kotone and Noriko and Shōri, about something—well, it's better if I say it in front of you all."

Eiichiro's expression turns concerned, and Fumihiro can't articulate how _bad_ he feels about worrying the man as he soundlessly ushers him in. As he expected, Kotone, Noriko and Shōri all look up when he arrive, the plates and empty cups.

"I'm sorry for interrupting—" Fumihiro begins guiltily, and Noriko waves it off.

"No, no, Fumihiro-sama, please sit down." She smiles faintly at him, and he's struck with another stab of guilt. Her smile flickers.

"Is everything—"

"There was a clan meeting today." Fumihiro blurts out, and Eiichiro's brows furrow. Noriko looks thunderous, but she manages to hold back whatever she was planning to say. Kotone and Shōri glance at each other—Shōri with bafflement, Kotone with cautious understanding.

"We were not informed of this." Eiichiro speaks up, sending a questioning glance his way. Fumihiro understands his caution—they may not be the ruling family any more, but they are still important members. Not having them at a meeting

"They convened an "emergency meeting". I was only told just prior." Obviously, everything had been staged, but he had the feeling if he said that, things would just get worse.

"What about?" Shōri pipes up, sounding more curious than cautious.

"It was...related to your family." Fumihiro says reluctantly, and hastily continues as Noriko's eyes flash dangerously.

"They want to sponsor the two girls' entrance into the Academy."

"No." Noriko's rebuttal is immediate, her voice venomous. Immediately, the environment of the room changes. Shōri pales under his tan, and Eiichiro and Kotone exchange glances so quick that Fumihiro doesn't even bother to try and read them. Most dangerously of all, however, is the fury rolling off of Noriko in waves, her eyes flashing dangerously cold and blank. She doesn't look shocked—instead she sits perfectly still, as if she's carved from ice.

At least she's not trying to strangle him, Fumihiro thinks bleakly. He had been concerned about that when they had decided to tell _him_ to tell her.

The Uchiha were primarily a ninja clan, and so it was very much expected that whoever led them was a ninja themselves. Fumihiro was aware enough of his skills to know he was decent, but generally unexceptional in the grand scheme of things. Good enough to get the job done, he supposed. Eiichiro was clearly talented—ran in the family—but after his promotion to jonin, he had simply done work as a medic nin and some administrative duties in the Police Force—two things that had raised eyebrows. Certainly, Fumihiro couldn't blame him—the thought of having to spend your entire life in the shadow of your uncle was not an enjoyable one. Madara Uchiha being said uncle would be a thousand times worse. Kotone had been born to one of the most prominent non-ninja families, but together they had had Noriko, one of the most talented ninja to come from the Uchiha clan since Madara.

The elders had gotten it into their head that Noriko, once she had shown such prodigious skill, ought to have married his son Fukashi and realigned the families. Kotone had shot down the idea so elegantly but so firmly that it hadn't been brought up again, even out of their earshot, and there had been much less fuss then there ought to have been that one of the scions of the Uchiha family married a half-Uchiha civilian artist. Even now that his son Fukashi himself had a son merely a few years older, there had not even been a whisper of the idea of marrying him to Mikoto or Machiko.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Fumihiro snorts to himself at the memory. That had honestly been the funniest thing he had ever seen. Eiichiro was uncompromising in his ideals, but Kotone really was the force one had to fear with the two. Whatever small hope he had that there would be a loophole rested on her.

However, then came Mikoto and Machiko. Not only a particularly pointed main-branch omen, but they had already shown themselves to be brilliant and talented. And, of course, the Sharingan Machiko had already showcased had made the clan very _eager_ to take full advantage of their potential. They didn't want another Eiichiro, another Noriko—someone who retired peacefully and spent their considerable talent and prowess filling out forms. They wanted another Madara. The clan sponsoring their entrance into the Academy would mean that their education would be controlled by them, not Noriko and Shōri.

He had tried (and failed) to point out the sponsoring was normally done for Uchiha orphans, that they were four, that it would set a bad precedent, that they were _four,_ that Machiko's Sharingan didn't mean anything, that they were _four—_ but this had clearly been decided by them long before they ever called a meeting. He was only there to be the scapegoat for the decision, powerless to stop that kind of choice but still required to enforce it.

"I know, Noriko." He says weakly—too weakly— and then remembering himself, clears his throat hastily.

"They, uh, invoke Hitomi and Hihana. Say that twins from your line are the clan's responsibility."

Noriko says nothing. Perhaps she's too shocked, or too angry, so he continues.

"And they guarantee the best...medical care." Fumihiro says delicately, not quite sure if he ought to mention the Sharingan at this point. He briefly moves onto the benefits of it, the entire room silent as he stammers his way through the lines the clan had fed him.

"So, if there aren't any objections…That would halt this decision...using your best judgement, of course..." He trails off meaningfully, practically _begging_ in his mind for someone to have an objection that he could return to the clan with.

A brief moment of silence that stretches impossibly long.

Then, Kotone clears her throat, and Fumihiro thanks all the spirits of the world.

"Unfortunately." Kotone says with a quick glance at her daughter, who is still stock still.

"They have, er—already started to put down payment for Niwaki."

Fumihiro blinks.

"Niwaki?" He asks stupidly, thinking of the affluent school with bafflement before things click.

"Niwaki." Kotone says with a firm nod.

"It's a sizable amount, so we—we must insist that they attend first."

"Yes, of course. You understand, Fumihiro-san?" Eiichiro's voice is cool, the epitome of disregard, but his eyes track Fumihiro warily.

It's clearly a lie. Kotone is not a ninja, never had the training for it, even if her husband has. Nothing can hide the way Shōri glances between the two like a deer caught in headlights, or the way Kotone's lips press in a thin line—not in anger, but in fear, her hands folded tightly in her lap. It's also an unbelievably flimsy excuse—it is a sizable deposit, yes, but he is well sure they can absorb the cost— but it's one that Fumihiro seizes on gratefully, for once glad that the elders had sent him to break the news rather then one of their own. Their desire for someone else to do their dirty work has backfired on them, at least.

"Of course!" He blusters, his voice a little too loud even in his own ears. He clears his throat hastily.

"A deposit like that—well, it'd be the only reasonable thing. I mean—uh, Hitomi and Hihana, after all, were daughters of the Minister of Fire. Surely they had the kind of education they give at Niwaki now..." He trails off.

"Excellent point, Fumihiro-sama." Eiichiro says smoothly, ignoring the fact it's not an excellent point in the slightest, and is in fact rather convuluted.

"And surely, we ought to make sure they are given the most well rounded education they can."

"Yes! Yes, we ought to. After all, shinobi require quite a breadth of knowledge. So, they start at—four, is it?" He addresses it to the room at large.

Noriko nods, speaking up for the first time.

"Yes." Fumihiro nods furiously

"Ah, very good. And of course, one year won't be sufficient. They'd need at least tw—three. _Three_ years at Niwaki." He improvises wildly. Seven is a reasonable age—more reasonable, certainly then four, but not old enough for them to gripe with any real merit.

"Certainly." Kotone says measuredly, though Fumihiro knows he doesn't imagine the faint smile to her eyes and voice. He claps his hands together.

"Right. Well, that's—settled, then."

A palpable feeling of everyone letting their breath out at once occurs as they hammer out the finer details.

They will give him _hell_ for agreeing to this, but seeing the clear relief on Noriko's face, it's well worth the hassle. He quickly makes his excuses and half-flees, stopped only by a sound behind him.

"Fumihiro." Eiichiro's deep voice calls, and Fumihiro turns around. The man clasps his forearm, which Fumihiro returns readily.

"I cannot thank you enough, Fumihiro-sama. You have always been good to our family, I hope one day to repay all you've done for us."

Eiichiro's grip is strong—either that, or he's getting old, Fumihiro thinks wryly. Probably both. Maybe he ought to quit while he's ahead.

"Think nothing of it." He says, waving his hand. Eiichiro's eyes warm.

"But I do. Goodnight, Fumihiro-sama."

"Goodnight." Fumihiro says with a smile, and steps out into the beautiful night.

**AN: Things are speeding up! Next up, Mikoto and Machiko go to finishing school and make some actual non-Uchiha friends! Fun fact, originally Fumihiro was an absolute jerk (after I decided Eiichiro wasn't a bad guy, I thought I needed an Uchiha antagonist), but I decided that I preferred him to be a nice guy who was maybe a little in over his head lol. I hope you enjoyed! Please read and review, and I'll see you next week!**


	10. Koharu (A Schoolyard Meeting)

Koharu knows that it's important to be good.

It's important for everyone, but it's super important for her. Being good means being good for her Kaa-san and Tou-san. Kaa-san and Tou-san are Very Important People, so everyone has to be good for them, but Koharu has to be double good.

Kaa-san says that because Tou-san is the Hokage, she has to be really really good, even better then other people have to be. So she is, because she doesn't want Tou-san to worry. He's doing super big work, so she can't make him worry about her.

So when the Headmistress says she has to look after the two new girls, Koharu takes her job very seriously. She's big, and they're little, so she should do it anyway, because it's the right thing.

But more importantly, the girls are Important, with a capital I. Which is why she asks her friends for help, because Kaa-san also says friends are important. Therefore, them together will be Double Important.

Torū glances up from his copy of _Konoha Monthly Shōjo_ when she tells them.

"Maybe they're nice." He chirps, scratching at his cheek idly with his index finger.

"They could switch with each other like in that movie."

"Headmistress Hyakushō said they were fraternal twins." Rina reminds him, blinking pale lavender eyes as she snaps open her matcha tea can and takes a small sip.

"So they don't look identical." Torū looks slightly disappointed, but shrugs good-naturedly, opening his bag of chips and offering them around to the two of them. Koharu takes one.

"They're little, so we have to be nice to them no matter what." Koharu reminds them, although she doesn't think Torū or Rina would be mean. The girls might, though.

Koharu knew the Uchiha were very strange. They didn't like to talk to people outside of their clan. They were important—probably the most important clan in Konoha, and it was Very Important for her Tou-san to get along with them, but they were rude to him, even though he was Very Important as well. She didn't like that very much.

There was an old man who was in charge of the Uchiha, and he was very nice, and when he came to Tou-san's office while she was there, he would give her sweets, but many of the others frowned and glared at her when they came to his office, and Tou-san would tell her to go find Kaa-san in the way that meant he wasn't mad at Koharu, but worried.

Her Kaa-san said that she would have to take the high ground, even if they were rude to her. Koharu would do it for her and Tou-san, even if they were very rude.

"There they are." Rina says, and Koharu wonders if she activated her Byukagun, but no, it's Headmistress Hyakushō walking over with two girls. She smiles at them.

"Hello, Koharu-chan, Rina-chan, Torū-kun." She greets them one by one. Headmistress Hyakushō was very nice, and she always remembered everyone's names.

""These are the newest additions to the youngest class. Please, meet Uchiha Mikoto and Uchiha Machiko."

"I'm Sarutobi Koharu." Koharu says, and bows politely, as is proper. Rina copies her.

"Hyuuga Rina."

"Akimichi Torū." Torū says, and he smiles at them too.

Koharu looks at the girls. They do not look identical, but very similar anyway. They are both very small and dressed in blue and holding bentos, but one's hair is very wavy, and the other has long straight hair. They bow at the same time. They do not look very mean.

"Yep. I'm Mikoto, and that's Machiko, my younger sister." The girl on the left responds, pointing at the girl on the right. Koharu doesn't miss the way she stresses younger, sending a triumphant glance in her sister's direction, who merely rolls her eyes fondly.

"Pleased to meet you." The girl echoes.

"Pleased to meet you. Please, sit down and have lunch with us." Koharu says formally, like her Kaa-san greets guests. Machiko gives her a curious look, but both sit down and unwrap their bentos quietly.

Mikoto's bento box is blue, and Machiko's is red. They both have seasoned rice, gyoza and chicken in it, but Mikoto's also has cherry tomatoes, while Machiko's has a tiny container of miso soup.

"Yummy looking bento." Torū says to the twins. His bento is always the best, because he's an Akimichi, and they always have the best food. But theirs look really good too.

"Machiko made them!" Mikoto perks up immediately, jumping down from the bench and showing Torū proudly. He looks very impressed.

"That's very impressive, Machiko-chan." Koharu says, because Kaa-san says that being nice is important. The girl smiles, though not as wide as her sister.

"Thanks, Sarutobi-san." She says, taking a sip of her soda.

"Machiko is really good at it, Sarutobi-chan." Mikoto chirps proudly.

"Oh." Torū says cheerily as he snaps apart his chopsticks and splits his katsu neatly.

"Call us senpai now, yeah?"

Mikoto beams widely at the overture. Machiko chokes on her drink and goes into a coughing fit.

"Uh, Machiko?" Rina says, looking concerned.

Still coughing, the girl gives her a thumbs up as she wipes her mouth with her other hand.

"Guess I really _am_ an anime schoolgirl now." The girl mutters, and then slightly louder.

"So. Bento won't eat themselves."

"Right." Torū, as always, perks up at the mention of food. They all begin to eat, and he tells them about all of the fun classes. Koharu and Rin chime in occasionally, but mostly Koharu watches the two girls, curious about them. They are both very nice, not rude at all, but Machiko is...strange. She almost reminds her of Kaa-san, or Tou-san, or other grown-ups, and she says strange things too.

"It's good I've never kept kosher. All seafood and pork here." The girl mutters more to herself than anyone, as she slices through the gyoza with her chopsticks. Torū and Rina don't hear, because they're talking about kendo lessons, but Koharu does.

She smiles, then, to herself, eyes crinkling, though Koharu doesn't really understand why that's funny. She asks Mikoto.

"Huh?" Mikoto looks up at Machiko, then shrugs, unbothered.

"No, she likes being silly, it's okay. She says that she just likes to talk to herself." The girl explains as she pops a cherry tomato into her mouth.

"You can tell because of the secret smile."

"Secret smile?" Koharu asks, momentarily distracted. Rina and Torū ask Machiko about something.

"She says silly things she thinks are funny, but are also true. You can tell when she does a secret smile that she's telling the truth, even if you don't know how."

Koharu doesn't really understand that, and she watches Machiko very carefully afterward for the smile, but she doesn't do it. She laughs, and she takes chips when Torū offers, and she eats her food, and nothing more happens until lunch is done, and as they're all cleaning up Machiko comes up to her and says.

"Is there something you wanted to know?" She doesn't say it in a rude way, just a curious one. Koharu flushes anyway, because she knows staring is very rude, so she shouldn't have done it.

"I'm very sorry for being rude, Machiko-chan." She says with a bow. The girl blinks.

"If you're afraid you've offended me, please don't be. You're very polite, you just seemed...on edge." Machiko says, in a way that adults sometimes call her _grown-up_. Machiko doesn't sound happy, but she doesn't sound upset either, like when kids call her _no fun_.

"I thought you were going to be mean." Koharu confesses. Machiko looks faintly surprised.

"I see. Can I ask why?"

"Well..." Koharu falters. Machiko seems to understand, and nods.

"Because Uchiha are mean?" She offers wisely, and Koharu winces.

"I'm sorry." She says, ashamed. Machiko waves her hand.

"You're _seven._ It's okay. Can't disagree that the Uchiha need a better PR department, then maybe..." She trails off, a shadow crossing her face.

"Machiko-chan?" She prompts. The girl starts, then smiles, although it looks a little less big.

"It's nothing to worry about."

"I can help you." Koharu offers seriously.

"I'm sure you could." She says, but it sounds like Machiko is humoring her. Koharu frowns.

"I'm _very_ serious." Koharu says, crossing her arms, upset.

"No, no, I—It's just...not something someone can _help_ me with. I think you're _very_ serious. More serious than any other seven year old I know, certainly." The girl says quickly. Slightly mollified, Koharu uncorsses her arms.

"It's important to be serious, because then I can help my family when I am." Koharu tells her importantly. Machiko nods, like she understands. Maybe she does, because she must know it's Very Important too, and whatever she's thinking about is also important.

"It's good to do that." Machiko allows.

"But you're young, you know. You're allowed to be a kid, Koharu—Koharu-sen—okay, going to have to get used to that. But seriously, you're allowed to goof off. You'll have plenty of time to bring honor to the family name and whatever later, when you're—whatever you want to be when you're an adult. Be good to yourself, good as you are to others."

Koharu mulls over the idea of being good to herself. She knew she had to be good to Kaa-san and Tou-san, and to her sisters and brothers. But she didn't think of being good to _herself._ But if she was good to everyone else, she guesses she should be good to _her_ too, because that made sense.

"When I'm a ninja, I'll work for my Tou-san and do the _most_ good." She tells Machiko, finally and the girl frowns. It's wiped away immediately, but Koharu notices anyway.

"I see." She says, in a way that makes Koharu think of her Kaa-san, when she's angry at someone but trying to be polite—her Uncle Homura, normally, or her cousin. She doesn't sound angry at Koharu though, which is confusing. If she's not angry at her, who is she angry at? And why is she angry?

"Aren't you going to be a ninja too?" She asks, confused. The Uchiha were always ninja. That was a Rule. Like bedtime and listening to her Kaa-san.

The girl blinks. Then she nods, shrugging a little bit.

"Looks like it." Her voice is calm, but she doesn't look very happy. Koharu doesn't understand. Why would anyone not want to be a ninja? She doesn't ask though, because asking that would be Rude, which would be Bad, and she had been very rude to Machiko already. But Machiko seems to pick up on it anyway, and laughs a very grown up laugh.

"Do you have to eat things you don't like before you get to dessert?"

Koharu nods.

"Right. You do that because you know you'll get a reward for it later. Because sometimes, the only way to do what you _want_ to do is to do something you _don't_ want to do." Machiko continues as she looks down at her empty box, wrapping it neatly with quick hands.

"Oh." Koharu says. She understands that. And she guesses she understands what Machiko means, even though she doesn't know why.

"Like how you are good because it helps people." Machiko continues, and Koharu frowns.

"Not _just_ because." She says, and the girl nods quickly.

"Not _just_ because." She agrees.

"But still. Doing good for other people is good. And there are a lot of rules here, and I need to be careful, with this." The girl explains. Koharu thinks about that for the second. Rules are Very Important, she knows, and so breaking them is Very Bad. Maybe Uchiha rules were different, which makes sense.

"Well, you can understand Rules when you're older." Koharu tells her to reassure her because she looks a little sad, and the girl surprises her. She laughs, and then she smiles, and it makes her eyes flash. She looks much bigger then, like a grown up even though she looks the same and Koharu understands what Mikoto meant by a secret smile.

From the other side of the courtyard, Mikoto waves.

"Machiko!" She calls impatiently. Machiko chuckles.

"Perhaps I will. When I'm older. Don't forget what I said, though. Seven year olds are legally obligated to have fun." She says, voice easy with humor. She smiles again, and Koharu smiles back, even though she doesn't really know why. But Machiko is nice, and Koharu likes her, and she has the funny feeling that she should listen to what Machiko says, even though she's so much littler.

"For now, I'll settle for getting to kendo class on time."

"I'll show you." Koharu volunteers immediately. Machiko nods gratefully, and quickly, she brings the two girls to the door, says goodbye and leaves for her own class.

"I liked them." Torū says when she slides into her seat just as the bell chimes, crumbling up his bag of chips and stuffing it into his pocket. He takes out his shōjo magazine again, flipping to the page he had left it with a contented hum.

"Me too." Rina agrees.

"Yes." Koharu says, meaning it. They are a little strange, but she likes them both, and she thinks she'll invite them to lunch again.

After all, it's important to be good.

(And even more important to be good to yourself)

**A/N: I tried to make this like it was from the point of view of a really young kid—ie more simplistic descriptions, black and white viewpoints, etc. It might have just made me seem lazy but I promise I'm trying to write like a seven year old thinks and didn't just decide "oh lets skip all the description!" Please let me know if it worked! I've read this over so often it makes less and less sense every time haha.**

**Also I originally wanted all the chapters to refer to light in some way (you know, like Ignited) but as it turns out there are only so many synonyms for fire you can use before it starts sounding weird lmao.**

**Anyway, please read and review, and I'll see you all next week! Thank you for all the reviews and kudos so far, they mean so much :D.**


	11. Etsu (The Shrine of Southern Joy)

The day is waning. The temple is quiet. Distantly, the sound of song echoes through the sun-soaked shrine, the dusk illuminating her path in gold.

It is in the garden that Etsu finds her. Small—four, maybe five, crouched by the little river that winds its way through the grass, back pressed against the white-stone bench.

The girl starts upon seeing her, clambering to her feet. Her dark eyes are wide, and her hair falls in glossy locks around her face. Etsu keeps a pleasant smile on her face, although she suspects it's her sudden and unexpected appearance from amidst the trees, rather than her seventy year old, hunched over appearance that alarms her so.

"Hello, little one." Etsu says kindly, stooping to see her better. Her eyes aren't what they used to be, after all.

"What can I do for you?"

The girl hesitates, and for a second, Etsu has the strange feeling that she is poised to flee, before she clears her throat, clasps her hands in front of her, and bows.

"Excuse me for my intrusion." Her voice is soft, halting. Etsu waves off the apology easily.

"You have no need to apologize." Etsu says kindly.

"The shrine is a place for everyone. Tell me, what are you looking for?"

"Nothing." She says quickly, stiffening to attention. Too quickly. It is clear, from the way she shifts back and forth, that there is something on her mind.

Etsu recognizes the look in her eyes. She had seen it, time after time, in people who visited the shrine. It was, perhaps, a little younger than the average, but it was undeniable all the same.

The girl felt lost. Luckily for her, the shrine was a place for lost souls.

"Well, if I can help you. Or, if there's anything you would like to discuss..." Etsu says, pausing meaningfully. She had taken many roles over her tenure as a miko—confidant was a common one. And from the look of her, it seemed that she needed someone to confide in.

A moment of silence. The birds sing in the breeze.

"It's Rosh Hashanah." The girl says abruptly. It seems to flow out of her, as if she had held it any longer she would have split from the force of it. Her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip, looking down briefly as if embarrassed by her outburst.

"Go on." Etsu encourages her quickly. The girl looks at her skeptically for a moment, before she takes a fortifying breath and continues. Her words come faster as she continues speaking.

"Rosh Hashanah. Or at least, it's roughly Rosh Hashanah—or—or it will be. Soon-ish. I don't know the exact dates, but it's supposed to be the new year—" She makes a little gesture with her hands, looking uncertain, before something in her expression falls, and she slumps in defeat.

"It's stupid. I can't even—Nevermind, it's stupid."

"Now, hold on." Etsu says, holding up her hand to forestall any more of this.

"This is clearly important to you, child, so why do you think it's stupid?"

" _It's_ not stupid." The girl says quickly.

"But I can't—I don't have a, a—a lot of things, actually. Pretty sure I can't find the Torah at an import store _._ " She chuckles faintly at that, sounding both amused and resigned.

Etsu mulls over the name for a second. The words she uses are unfamiliar to her—but she clearly feels strongly about it.

"What do you need?" She offers.

"Do you own a hollowed-out ram horn?" The girl asks dryly, a twinge of humor. Etsu smiles.

"I can try to get one for you." She promises. The girl's answering laugh is rather nervous, like she wasn't expecting to be taken seriously.

"No, no. I can't _imagine_ how I would explain that to my parents."

Etsu tilts her head quizzically.

"Do they not celebrate it?" She had assumed they were recent immigrants from farther lands, ones with different traditions then their own. Apparently, that might not have been the case.

" _No_." The girl says empathetically, before she stiffens, shaking her head quickly.

"I...don't know why I'm telling you this. I shouldn't—This is _such_ bad idea. In _so_ many ways."

"Do you fear that I will tell someone?" Etsu asks. Already, she can see the girl's expression shuttering, concern taking its place, so she hastily adds.

"I swear that not a word of this will pass my lips without your leave." _Why_ that is important Etsu has no idea, but it clearly is, and she means her promise.

"Thanks." The girl mumbles, looking slightly less fearful, but still uneasy. After another swift bow, she turns on her heel, obviously desperate to extricate herself, and Etsu calls out to her.

"Child?" The girl looks back at her.

After she's sure she has her attention, Etsu continues.

"If you would like to celebrate...you can always find me in the garden."

Many emotions war on her face—confusion, mistrust, and curiosity, before she presses her lips together, bows again, and flees into the green midst.

Etsu looks after her for a second. Something tugs at her mind, shadowy and distant.

A thought…a faintest thread of memory. A warm summer night, a thousand braziers.

"Hm." She says aloud, and returns to her strolling of the garden.

* * *

Three days later, the girl comes again. She walks gingerly, as if she's afraid that someone will appear out of the blue and accuse her of not belonging, but relaxes somewhat upon seeing her, shoulders slumping in relief.

"Miko-san."

"Little one." Etsu nods. She decides against asking her name—it is clear that the perceived anonymity of her visit is comforting to the little girl, and she does not wish to scare her away.

The girl looks down, and shuffles her feet.

"Can I...say something?" Etsu nods kindly at her.

" _Tizku Leshanim Rabbot_." Etsu blinks at the unfamiliar phase, and the girl elaborates.

"It's a greeting, I use it with my mother's family. They're Sephardic, so…" She trails off, biting her lip before she seems to come to a decision.

" _One_ of my mothers." She amends, then looks up at Etsu again, looking almost plantative.

"Would you mind if I just...sat here? And did prayers?"

"Please." Etsu says empathetically, waving a hand to encompass the full abundance of the nature around her.

The girl's selection of a spot is careful—She hesitates once more, glancing back at Etsu, before resolution crosses her face.

" _Baruch She'amar v'hayah ha'olam"_

She mutters it, a language that Etsu doesn't understand, but she closes her eyes and lets it roll over her like water anyway. It is far different than the ones at the shrine. Slowly, haltingly, the girl moves through more phrases, gaining confidence as she goes, her voice becoming surer and surer.

She lets out an exhale. Etsu opens her eyes.

"That was lovely. Is it traditional phrasing?" The girl looks faintly embarrassed by her praise, cheeks pinking.

"Uh, as close as I can get to it. I can't...remember all of them—there's a _lot—_ normally there's a special book, so I went through evening prayers too."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I could leave—" Etsu says, faintly alarmed. The girl waves off her concerns.

"No, no, you're fine. It's definitely not a conventional service."

"How did it feel?" Etsu asks. The girl blinks at her, then looks back at the stream.

"It—" She squares her shoulders, breathes out.

"It felt good. To do it. I hadn't realized how much I missed it until now."

"I'm glad." Etsu says, meaning it. She smiles.

"If it's okay with you, could I come again tomorrow? To—celebrate? Significantly abridged? Normally it's just one day, but I can't exactly skip class to do this..."

"Of course. I can make tea." Etsu says readily, pleased at a definitive almost-promise of seeing her tomorrow.

"Great." She smiles.

"I can bring the food."

Etsu watches her run down the weather-worn path, and thinks of daughters and daughter's daughters, and the sun mingling with the moon to make dusk and dawn. 

* * *

"Yeah, I was not kidding about the food." The girl says, carrying a heavy looking basket.

"Also, candles. Do you have a match?"

The girl continues speaking, reaching in with small hands and rifling through the carefully wrapped food. There's quite an assortment that she can see, and as she pours the tea into two delicate cups, the girl takes them out piece by piece and lays them on the bench. She takes the match that Etsu proffers and strikes it against its box, carefully lighting two candles and setting them out before returning to explaining the food.

"Honey and apples. Raisin challah, pomegranates—and senbei." She chuckles as she pulls aside the delicate cloth, revealing the small rice crackers that crackle as she shifts her hands.

"Not traditional, but they're round, so." She snaps one in half, and hands it to Etsu. She hesitates, like she wants to say something else. Etsu waits.

"Can I throw crumbs into the stream?" The girl asks finally.

"It's—well, it's part of it." She snorts, then adds.

"I think technically several rabbis hated it but. Grew on them."

Etsu gestures at the small stream.

"Go ahead." She encourages her. The girl slips off the bench, and wanders over to the tiny stream.

"Hello, colorful fish." She says conversationally to the koi that bob upwards.

"Don't worry, these are rice. And technically, I'm not feeding _you_." She reassures them with a chuckle, before she straightens, squares her shoulders, and closing her fist briefly, sends the chunks of the senbei into the stream, where they are quickly whisked by the steady current into the small pond, where the koi eagerly swarm.

" _He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea."_ She recites. The words seem memorized, intimate, her voice dropping lower as she speaks but gaining in intensity.

After a second, she glances up again, and the feeling seems to recede. Soundlessly, she tosses another few pieces into the water.

"Are you repenting?" Etsu asks curiously, unable to help himself. There is a dissonance between the girl and her words, the clear roundness of her face and the softness of her features, and the way she speaks of sin and repentance and penance.

"More like repenting for future sins." She says. Her lips twist. It's a bitter expression on such a young face, and she's silent as she silently crumbles the rest of senbei in her hands.

"Do you think you're a bad person?" Etsu asks carefully. The girl pauses, looking more thoughtful now, and perhaps .

"I think." She says finally.

"That it's going to be very hard to not be bad in some way, with the path I'm taking."

The girl finishes crumbling the bread in her hand, and tosses it into the rapidly flowing stream once more. Etsu copies her, tossing her own handful. The crumbs are whisked away by the current, and she watches it swirl away with a pensive expression.

"Why are you doing this?" She says suddenly. It's clearly something she wanted to ask for some time. Etsu throws in another small handful of crumbs.

"Should I not be?" She asks mildly.

"Well, I don't mind, but—you're a Shinto priestess. You're not Jewish." The girl points out, scattering another handful, which the koi eagerly gulp up.

"This is a place of worship." Etsu replies calmly. The water burbles merrily along.

"And you are worshipping. Our faiths are not the same, but you _have_ faith all the same."

"Hm." The girl says. They don't say anything else for the rest of the night.

* * *

_Hm,_ Etsu thinks, as the girl peeks out from behind her mother and father, looking...concerned. Scared, almost, like she's afraid that Etsu is going to point at her and go " _aha! It's the five year old girl who speaks another language!"_

"Hello, Shōri-kun, Noriko-chan." She elects to say instead, beaming at her parents. She sees her eyes widen at the display of familiarity.

"These must be your daughters! Oh, how they've grown."

Noriko smiles at her brightly.

"It's _really_ wonderful to see you again, Etsu-san. Yes, I suppose you haven't seen them since they were newly born, yes? Girls, this is Etsu-san. Etsu-san, this is Mikoto and Machiko."

"...How do you know each other?" Machiko's voice is carefully neutral, eyes darting from Etsu back to her parents.

"Are you related to us?" Mikoto asks brightly, tugging at her skirt.

"She helped attend to your birth, girls, and did your blessings." Shōri says brightly, smiling as he distangles his daughter from Etsu's hakama. Etsu sees Machiko incredulously mouth " _what the fuck_ " behind his back. Neither parent seems to notice.

Etsu keeps her gaze firmly forward as she ushers them through the garden, though they go slowly, mindful of both Noriko's limp and Etsu's age. Noriko, it seems, has been doing well for herself—she and Shōri are the epitome of doting parents, drawing their daughters into conversation whenever they can. Machiko and Mikoto walk along beside them—although at some point Mikoto whispers that she's tired, and her father, with no hesitation, scoops her up. Machiko stays glued to her mother, holding tightly to the hem of her skirts and saying nothing. It is only when Noriko tells her that they really ought to be going that Machiko finally speaks up, tugging on her mother's skirt.

"Can I stay here a little longer? With Etsu-san?" Machiko asks. Noriko blinks at her in surprise, before she glances out into the distance, and then uncertainly at Etsu, a question on her lips. Etsu quickly moves to reassure her.

"She's more than welcome to." She assures the woman, smiling kindly. She bites her lip, considering—a gesture utterly like her younger daughter, who is currently pressed to her side, dark eyes considering Etsu carefully.

"...If you'd like, Machiko. I can come and get you later?" She offers finally.

"M'kay. Thank you, Kaa-chan." Noriko swoops down and presses a small kiss to her cheek, before glancing unsurely at Shōri, who shrugs, apparently content to let his wife take the lead on it. They exchange goodbyes, and the three who are not Machiko walk back along the path, Mikoto still nestled securely in Shōri's arms. She sees Noriko give a backward glance, before they are obscured by the thin trees. Their footsteps fade.

Etsu closes her eyes and keeps her head up, enjoying the sunshine for a little while longer before the sun fully sets. She hears the patter of small feet, and she opens her eyes to see Machiko, hands on her hips, looking at her with an expression that can only be termed _flat_.

"What the hell is up with _you_?" Machiko asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ you knew who I was from the very beginning." Machiko says, crossing her arms. The annoyance is faint, but palpable.

"And you never said _anything_."

"I never thought it was my place." Etsu says with a shrug.

"If I had told you that I knew you were Uchiha Machiko, granddaughter of Uchiha Eiichiro, blood-descendent of Hitomi, would you have felt comfortable being yourself?"

"I'm _always_ comfortable being myself." Machiko rebukes.

"Only because you think it won't be taken seriously." Etsu says mildly. Machiko bristles at her words.

"My parents _take_ me seriously!" It's clear she feels strongly about it, rising to their defense immediately, what looks like genuine anger in her eyes.

"Which is why you don't do it around your parents." Etsu says dryly. Machiko looks as if she's going to argue, but after a second, slumps in resignation.

"Are you a former intelligence-nin or just terrifyingly perceptive?"

"Just old." Etsu says cheerfully. She twists a flower from the ground, smelling the delicate scent with pleasure.

"Balance represents the Uchiha. With great hate comes great love, and with Yin comes Yang. Always there are two...life and spirit. You certainly have plenty of the latter, Machiko-chan, but I will confess I was not sure until I saw you with your sister."

The girl blows out a breath, looking slightly mollified. A pause.

"I have another question." Machiko says. She sits down on the grass.

"And I will do my best to answer it." Etsu answers graciously.

"Cool. Why are you okay with this?"

Etsu raises an eyebrow as she deftly loops the flower over another that she plucks.

"Have I not told you that your manner of faith is yours to decide?"

"This isn't about faith. What I _mean_ that I have said a bunch of things that you don't understand, and you couldn't _possibly_ understand, and most normal people would have already assumed I have either an overactive imagination or come from somewhere _far_ from here." Her words are utterly without rancor—rather, she looks at Etsu with unabashed curiosity.

"I've been telling you about holidays, traditions that nobody besides me knows about. I don't act remotely _close_ to what a five year old should act like. You have never commented on _either_ of these things, despite knowing who my family is and it being abundantly clear it doesn't come from any of them. Why?"

"I admit it crossed my mind." Etsu pulls the interlacing flowers tight, and sets it aside for the moment, instead electing to stretch her bare feet out into the grass.

"So what changed? Why didn't you ask?"

"The realization that it didn't matter."

"Doesn't _matter?_ " Machiko snorts, as if the idea is preposterous.

"It doesn't." Etsu says calmly. She looks as if she's going to say something in response, but after a brief moment, she seems more subdued.

"...I didn't thank you." The girl says, sounding slightly guilty..

"So, thank you. For doing this." Etsu nods at her thanks, smiling softly. Delicately, she takes the flowers, and dips her hand into the stream, letting the blossoms be whisked away in the swirling water.

"You are welcome."

Another moment of silence.

"I should get going."

"Alright." The girl hesitates, and says.

"See you at Yom Kippur. It's a couple days from now. It will _not_ involve food. Quite the opposite actually." It's played off like a joke, but Etsu smiles.

"See you at Yom Kippur." She echoes readily. Machiko grins—a flash of white, before she stands up, dusts herself off, and returns to the path. With one final glance back, hair haloed by the setting sun, she disappears among the trees, presumably back to where her mother is waiting for her.

The shrine shines in the dusk, warm and golden in the mingling of sun and moon, night and day, and Etsu bows her head and returns to her walk.

**AN: Fun fact, this was originally not supposed to be a chapter. But I think it sets up future plot points rather nicely. It's pivoted to an unexpected track, but I'm liking where it's going...also, I feel deeply in love with Etsu xD. Apparently I have a thing for kindly old grandmothers who serve as mentors to Machiko lol. There's Hisayo, Etsu, and one more, who is going to be the most important! The way the three intersect is very interesting...and leads to a bigger picture ;)**

**With this, we are hopefully halfway through Part One: baby edition! So that's fun! Besides that, I wanted to have a chapter that explicitly laid out Machiko's faith—she's Reformist Jewish, and while I'm not sure how often I can reference it in-story, I wanted it stated obviously. I'm not Jewish myself, so if I got anything wrong/was unintentionally offensive, my sincerest apologies, that was definitely not my intention! Please let me know if there's anything I should change, and if you have any suggestions on how to portray this in the future let me know!**

**Oh and also, next week I'll be going back to college, so I'll play the next couple of weeks by ear in terms of updates. See you all! If you liked it please read and review :).**


	12. Eel (A Midnight Tea Party)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noriko meets with an ex-coworker

In the twilight, Eel sits and waits.

Konoha's nights were always his favorite—after the sunset painted the sky in color, the softer, more muted tones of night fell, the stars emerging from the sky. It reminded him of his childhood home—a village in the Land of Waters, where the eddying, icy cold water swirled between the stilts their houses rested on. He was not a man with much of an interest in regrets or self reflection—he had taken the opportunity to go to Konoha, and he hadn't looked back. You could so rarely do so in his line of work.

No, he had swapped the cool waters for lush green fields—a hungry, scrappy childhood for a blade and a target, and despite everything he could not bring himself to regret that.

He was part of the elite of the elite, who bounced between Hokage and his dearest friend and most bitter rival, taking whatever missions either Shimura or Sarutobi asked of them.

They moved soundlessly. Perfectly. Eel, Otter, Marten, Sable.

Kingfisher. Their captain. Everything had been so neat, until it hadn't been.

Kingfisher falls, injured so badly in battle it forces her into retirement. The great-niece of Madara Uchiha began walking with a prominent limp. It wouldn't exactly take the Hokage's brains to put two and two together.

Otter was raised ROOT, and so was Sable. They didn't have attachments. Though it's not like he had much either. Just an empty apartment he did little more than sleep in, or tend to his wounds when the hospital was too much effort and paperwork. As it turns out, Kingfisher was the only one of them who had something— _someone_ —to come home to.

The courtyard is abandoned, and Eel takes a breath and jumps.

The second his feet touch the grass, there is a blade to his throat, Noriko pressing him back into the pillar of her home with a kunai leveled at his jugular unflinchingly. He can feel her presence like a flare—chakra crackling off of her in arcs and rivulets, seeping into the air around her in electrical fritzes. Not killing intent, but the power makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up either way.

"Reporting to Danzō, Eel?" She asks softly. Eel can't help it. He chuckles.

"Hello, Noriko." He says. The blade comes a little closer.

"Don't toy with me. Are you, or are you not reporting to Shimura?"

"If you thought I was reporting to Danzō, you'd have killed me already." He says, matter of fact. If she had truly not trusted him, had even the slightest thought that he was spying on her on behalf of the Hokage's fixer, all that ten years of working together would grant him would have been a quick death. An easy one.

It might not have sounded like it to others, but to ANBU it was a genuine mercy. Nevertheless, it was not one he was planning on taking anytime soon. Her eyes widen—surprise and shock—before with a fluid movement, she steps back. The pressure on his throat disappears, and there's the metallic flash of the kunai vanishing beneath her sleeve, and it's only Noriko Uchiha, looking tired and older as she says—

"Then why _are_ you here, Jūbei?"

Using his real name is as much of a concession as it is a thinly veiled threat, and Jūbei rolls his shoulders free of tension before he answers.

"Just doing my job." He answers steadily. There's the briefest flicker of irritation—Noriko was not a patient woman at the best of times—before it's smoothed away and she is coldly impassive once more. An Uchiha to the core.

"I very much doubt the Hokage—or Danzō—have sent a premier ANBU team to surveil a stay at home father and a paper pusher." Her voice is cool and light, but he can hear the note of question in her words—no fear, she would never show fear to him—but a cold kind of caution, calculation.

"Hokage and Shimura don't have anything to do with it." Jūbei drawls. _That,_ at last, seems to catch her attention, obsidian black eyes narrowing.

"Jūbei…" She says warningly, her voice saying _do not toy with me_. He cuts over her.

"You're part of a team..." Jūbei says firmly, parroting the words she had told him so many years ago, when he had first slipped on the mask and still felt like it didn't fit. They had been so young.

"...And that means forever." Noriko finishes. There's a faint air of resignation to her voice, but her eyes glint challengingly.

"Do you blame me for this? For wanting to be free of Shimura's yoke?"

"Would it matter if I did?" He asks calmly in turn. He reads the answer in her eyes. He wouldn't be surprised to see the Sharingan blaze to life in her anger—but they remain steadfastly black, the faintest pressing of her lips together the only sign of any discontent.

She looks at him a second longer, and sighs, turning sharply on her heel, stepping onto the porch with a lithe grace that belies her injury.

"Come on then." She says irritably, taking the steps with no difficulty. Jūbei follows.

She makes him tea in utter silence, no words passing between them and no noise beyond the hiss of the kettle. He doesn't offer to help—he knows she wouldn't appreciate it, simply waits and watches her work—easy, methodical movements. They are softened, he notes. Years of peace had blunted her edge, but he was not enough of a fool to be lulled into complacency. Better ninja than him had been killed for that same mistake.

Noriko had always been excellent at pretending to be gentle—he was sure the Sharingan helped greatly with that. Good at feigning ticks—make someone think that they know your tell, all the easier to flip it on them. Now, it seemed, her skills were used to maintain the illusion that she was just another face in the crowd, not broken and put together a thousand times over. Not the most dangerous person in any room.

He moves his mask every so slightly off his mouth. In the darkness, she can see him roll her eyes at him, a glimmer of that familiar impatience that had defined her. Always pushing, always burning with inner fire. It had made her strong—stronger than any of them. And it had made her fierce too.

"I know what you look like, Jūbei. Don't be ridiculous." He tries not to smile.

"Protocol, Captain." He says steadily. Her rebuke is instantaneous.

"Don't call me that. Marten is the captain now."

She's not wrong, though she's not quite correct either. Marten's the captain now, yes, and she's good at it, but they still turn to an empty spot, waiting for orders that don't come. Jūbei shrugs.

"Old habits." He lies.

"Never really thought of you as the domestic sort, Captain."

"Because you didn't know me." Noriko says. The words are barbed, designed to hurt him. Test him. He remains unruffled, well used to this. She would snap and snarl, draw blood with no hesitation—but she didn't strike the killing blow without warning.

"I know you well enough." He says simply. He doesn't blame her for her terseness. She had something to defend, after all—multiple somethings, really. Her husband, her children, a home she had made for herself, clawed from Danzō Shimura's unwilling hands. She doesn't react to that.

"Tell me what you're doing." She says, and he resists the urge to say that _there's_ the Captain that he remembered, sharp and to the point, no room for anything but urgency, only a mission and information and a coldly spoken _Confirmed_.

"We take it in turns to check in on you. When we're off duty." Jūbei says. There's no point to lying. She'd see through it in a heartbeat, and it's not like she'd be surprised.

"I've noticed." Her reply is cold, and he's not surprised by that either, because the day he (or anyone else) can get the jump on Kingfisher is the day Danzō Shimura decides to step aside from his role as second-most powerful and first-most bloodthirsty public official in Konoha to become a priest in one of Konoha's shrines.

He doesn't say anything to excuse himself, defend from her pointed words, and after a moment she hisses in exasperation.

"One day, you'll be caught."

"And one day we'll worry about it." Jūbei says. Noriko lets out another annoyed huff, then with little ceremony, sits across from him and starts drinking her own tea.

"I hope Sable has gotten better at their defense." She says.

"Kekkai genkai make you a target. They need to watch out for that." Jūbei resists the urge to point out that her own kekkai genkai had made her five times the target Sable had ever been—what was turning your body to gold dust compared to the ability to copy jutsu?

"They're getting better. Marten has been training them hard." Noriko nods minutely, a glimmer of approval in her eyes. Jūbei pauses, and says.

"She takes after you. Your daughter. I've seen it."

"Think before you speak further, Jūbei." Noriko says, looking completely unruffled as she puts her teacup down. The air temperature around her, however, drops dangerously, and it is only years of training and the confidence that Noriko will not hurt him that keeps him impassive. Something slides like ice down his spine, old instincts rousing themselves.

 _-blood pain kill fear fea_ _ **danger**_ _**run run run—**_

Jūbei keeps his eyes locked ahead, though he cannot stop his lips from twitching in a smile that she clearly sees, if the way her eyes go glacial is any indication.

"Killing intent, Noriko? That's a little obvious for you."

"Obvious. You dare bring up _my daughters_ —"

" _One_ daughter." Jūbei corrects mildly. The cup in his hand feels almost like burning when compared to the icy air around him. Mechanically, to spur his frozen body to action, he lifts the cup to his lips.

"The younger. The one with a gaze like yours."

She says nothing to rebuke his statement. The pressure eases just a little—before with a breath of breeze, it dissipates on the winds. The instinctive tightening in his throat eases, and he takes a sip of his drink. It's still hot. He continues.

"She has your eyes." The sentence is loaded with meaning. He sees Noriko tense—the nearly impercitable tension of muscles, the way her eyes fix on him.

Another beat of silence passes.

"You know." It's not a question. Jūbei takes a sip of the tea instead of answering. He knows _she_ knows he has seen her eyes shine, thin black circles patterned with black tomoe. The black had become darker then dark, somehow, an absence of everything, even light, while the red had gleamed redder than blood.

And he had seen it whirl into an eight pointed star, seen the way her power seemed to _surge,_ like a wildfire hungrily swallowing up all in its path, the way tracking her had become less seeing her movements and more trying to keep track of where she _had_ been, because keeping up with where she _was_ became impossible. A trail of death in her wake that was unlike anything he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of horrible things.

It doesn't surprise him that the Uchiha have another layer to their dojutsu, really, because it's not like the Uchiha clan is exactly raring to share their secrets with the rest of the village, and it's not like Noriko Uchiha had ever been particularly inclined to spill her life's details. Everything he knew of her before had been hard-won.

It didn't matter to him. Noriko's secrets were her own. Jūbei was merely a keeper of them—and a loyal one, at that. He would not tell. She seems to read that in his gaze, and for the first time, she relaxes. It's slight, and small, but it's there, and for a moment they are in a contented silence, peaceful in a way it hadn't been before.

"Are you going to tell him about what you did? Before?" Jūbei asks finally, curiously. He doesn't have to clarify who he's talking about. She doesn't even blink.

"No. I won't put that on him." He can hardly blame her. He had never spoken to her husband, only seen him in glimpses. He was the epitome of a civilian—gentle and kind, unburdened by the things that ninja held onto.

"If he finds out, he won't understand.." Jūbei says. It's not meant to be unkind. It's not reassuring, either. It's a fact of life—that the blood they have spilled, the shadows they had lingered in cling to them. No matter if she never picks up a blade again, both of their hands are steeped in death.

"I'm not planning on trying to make him understand. That part of my life is over and done with." She looks at him—assessingly. Almost gently.

"You don't have to do it either, you know. You can leave." Jūbei laughs at that, though the sound rings hollow.

"We're not all wealthy matriarchs with the power of founding clans behind us." He reminds her. She doesn't falter, an eyebrow arcing.

"What happened to being part of a team?" She asks, with a lightness that belies the weight of her words. Now it is Jūbei who has nothing to say to this subtle, unexpected offer—a promise of help should he chose to take it.

"I'll think on it." He says, because that's all he can say. She nods, and seems ready to say something else before her eyes sharpen. A second later, Jūbei feels it as well—the faint pulse of warm chakra, the sense of a candle flickering to life. Noriko gives him a warning look, but he's already putting his cup in the sink.

"Thanks for the tea, Captain." He says, and leaves out the window. Rather then leaving immediately, however, he leaps into a tree, letting the shadows of the twilight mask him. Noriko rolls her eyes at him through the branches but makes no motion for him to go, instead tidying up her own utensils.

Jūbei settles back against the branch, curiously reaching out to prod at the girl's chakra. It's warm where her mother is' so white-hot to be freezing, but no less bright—a strangely cold edge to it, as if its ghostly flickerings held their own warmth.

As if summoned by his thoughts, her younger daughter pads into view, hair ruffled but eyes alert. A blanket is tucked across her shoulders in a neatly pleated shawl, hair thicker and wilder than Noriko's falling to her elbows, clad in a dark blue nightgown.

"Kaa-chan?" She asks quietly, her voice raspy with sleep.

"Machan." Noriko says as she turns, with the perfect note of false surprise in her voice, as if she hadn't heard her daughter get up and stumble to the kitchen.

"Are you alright? Do your eyes hurt? Do you need your eyedrops?" The girl soundlessly shakes her head, the tiniest of creases appearing in her brow.

"I thought I—heard something." She says quietly. Noriko gives her a gentle—though slightly puzzled—look.

"Heard what, darling?" The girl wrinkles her nose, then clarifies.

"I _felt_ something." Noriko's face doesn't change at all, nor does her chakra—tightly restrained, without even a hint of a flicker. Simply surprised and slightly confused, though still affectionate. Nevertheless, the girl frowns.

"Kaa-chan—?"

"Machan, you must have had a strange dream." Noriko says soothingly. Motheringly. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. The girl does not seem entirely convinced. Her eyes flicker to the sink, but she allows her mother to reach up and gently lift her into her arms with no struggle.

"I'll tuck you back in. You know Michan gets fussy if you're not sleeping with her." That, more than anything, seems to mollify her—the girl nods, snuggling deeper in her mother's arms, expression smoothing out.

"Kay." She murmurs. Noriko kisses the top of her head, and walks up the steps, vanishing into the darkened hallways.

She does not look back.

Jubei slides his mask back into place, and slips into the night soundlessly.

**A/N: Uhh;;;; happy late lunar new year, guys? Work plus school was a lot crazier then I expected ;-; but im hoping to get back on a more consistent schedule! thank you all for your patience!**

**This is very un-edited, i will probably go back and fix things but i wanted to get it out there! Thank you for your support, it means the world to me!**


End file.
